


The Light of Seven Stars: Jaime

by NeCophenhagen



Series: The Light of Seven Stars [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braime Bunch, Childbirth, Children, F/M, Feelings, Fix-It, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Parenthood, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, jaime and brienne have seven kids, mentioned Jaime/Cersei, old secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-04-24 16:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19177534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeCophenhagen/pseuds/NeCophenhagen
Summary: This is the 1st part of double story, consisted of Jaime and Brienne POV's.Basically the events take place after the last episode of last season, and my story is almost fully based on TV show characters, plot lines and twists.Now I should say that (and for obviouse reasons) nobody hates last episodes more than me.This work is like a fix-it try, but, being masochistic as I am, I preferred to know the endgame fully and only then I've started to fix it totally. For me it was like an emerge from the bottom.This story is about big and happy family, my version of so-called Braime Bunch, or Seven Kids of Jaime and Brienne. I liked them before I even started to write down all that. I've selected the names and personalities, but I needed a plot to combine all together in a readable text.So, that is the quick plot summary: after many happy years on Tarth Jaime suddenly has to discover the true price of his past mistakes.He will find a real redemption (not like at a show!final). He will.Both part will consist of several chapters. I don't finish it yet, so I am sorry if I will make readers to wait a bit. I promise I will finish it anyway. This is my remedy for the post-season damage.





	1. Older kids

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, all those who loved Jaime/Brienne for many years or, probably, have just started to love them.  
> This is my very first fic in English, and I feel very anxiouse. I am sure I made like billion mistakes, as English is not my native language. I am very sorry to all of you for that.  
> If you liked my plot, my ideas, my view of our beloved characters, but you want to help me with beta-reading, please, feel free to leave a message here or on my Tumblr blog: my name there is dvervzimu.  
> Thank you for reading it, and thank you for being in our fandom, no matter what, for loving our ship, for loving Gwendoline's Brienne and Nicholaj's Jaime.
> 
> PS: Ok, I finally divided the whole texts into chapters and parts. This 1st part will content 10 chapters. The next part I will make like another work, to more easy reading. Please, enjoy. I still terribly apologize for all the mistakes I made there.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eldest son was born on the road.

His eldest son was born on the road.  
According to the stories told by his wife and Ser Podrick, everything went more or less smoothly, but for a long time (and perhaps never) he could not get rid of guilt and bitterness.

That night always seemed to him a living hell: sticky spring snow, on which the horses were hard to tread their way, twilights, which covered the road and traces, thick and dark forest ahead, to which a little less than a mile remained.  
They must leave the open area, both of them understood that very well. In a dim light of sunset, before the last ray of sun left the forest, Podrick noticed the hut through black naked branches, and it seemed a true miracle.

How did it happen that he was not around? He made his mistakes, one by one. And the shining peak of this mountain of mistakes was that his son was born on the road, surrounded by northern forests, wolf packs, and marauders.

Sansa ... Ah, Sansa almost cried, letting her go. Had it been her will, she would not have let Brienne go. First of all, it was impossible to even think of ride a horse, but the stubborn wench did not listen to anyone. By the time of departure, Brienne’s pregnant belly was not just slightly rounded, it was being raised like a kind of impressive hill. But Sansa could not order her, only beg, and her begs were useless. 

In the forest, Brienne asked Podrick to stop.  
She moaned in a low voice and was already unable to go and even stood.   
Podrick, Seven bless him, helped her to reach the hut. The hut was abandoned - cold, small and dark. It stood in the middle of the forest felling and, perhaps, had previously served as a dwelling place for some logger and his family. There were only some kind of bed, crooked and littered with rotten rags, and a small fireplace.

“Water,” Brienne commanded with her last strength.

Podrick understood everything; he lit a fire, melted the snow in a road cauldron, and began to heat the water.

Jaime’s wife did not scream. She was afraid of the highwaymen, or any uninvited guests, or hungry animals. She rolled the tip of her road cloak and put it in her mouth. During the night this cloak was soaked with her tears and pain. In the end, when the baby has cried, she almost fainted.  
Podrick washed the boy with warm water, washed the blood from Brienne's legs and groin and put a screaming baby on her chest. They looked at each other in turn, all three - two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of brown eyes, serious and scared. Slowly, Podrick handed her a dagger heated in flames.

“I can't,” she practically begged him.

He looked into her tired, pale to almost grey face, looked at her shaking fingers, at the baby, at the bloody hem of her dress, and finished the night with a sigh.

The umbilical cord was cut, the child was born, he was healthy, cheerful, hungry, and the milk was already oozing from the breasts, and Brienne was still alive (although deadly tired). And no one came to a hut in a dark forest to take their lives, supplies, or horses.

It was a piece of luck, so divine, so clear, a real gift from the Seven, that Jaime since he learned the details, has been praying and thanking Gods every evening. He did not believe in any of Them, over time his faith was thinning and turned into dust and ashes, but he just had to send somewhere his gratitude, and fear, and pain, and repentance.

And they flew up to the stars above Tarth, filling the emptiness of the night skies, every day, nineteen years in a row.

Is it any wonder that she named his eldest son after Podrick?

Little Podrick was born surprisingly strong and unsurprisingly large, and he was a calm child.   
Once Brienne told Jaime that the child slept almost peacefully all the way to King’s Landing, not screaming, not drawing too much attention to the travelers. Together with the older Podrick, she built something like a cradle on her chest, of her shawls and cloaks. Sometimes she handed the burden to the squire, and he carried his little namesake on his back, as the Wildlings women do. 

So, all these weeks little Podrick peacefully snuffled in his warm cradle, drank mother's milk and patiently waited for Brienne to change his nappy. When he woke up, he purred softly, looking up into the mother's face and smiling at her with strangely respectful affection.

The second son was born a year after their meeting in King's Landing.  
He could have been born on the way, as happened with Podrick, but the weather favored the ships going to Tarth. 

Jaime. Brienne. Podrick. A little family. 

The three of them safely reached the harbour, and Selwyn was already there waiting for them. Hurriedly, he shouted the orders to his men, he frowned and grumbled. But he was happy to see his daughter alive and in safety.

And even if she did not return to Tarth as a maiden, as she left it, she returned with her husband and son and also being pregnant with the second kid. That, in the eyes of some Castle inhabitants, was downright miraculous (“well, taking into account the appearance of the poor girl, well, you understand what I mean, right?...”)

Jaime realized two things when (on the same night) Brienne screamed with her furious and desperate cry.   
First: he will never leave her, not at any price.  
Second: in this castle, seemingly alien to him, everything turned out to be strangely familiar, close and understandable. Selwyn's gruff pride at the sight of a one-year-old first-born. His ingratiating joy at the sight of a tiny baby.

Even straightforward servants, who at times, according to Jaime, were allowed to do or say too much. Even awkward horses in old stables, fat and badly rounded, for there were not many roads for riding on Tarth. And these rocky cliffs, and countless waterfalls, and sunset evenings, and simple food on simple grey porcelain that was served in the huge hall — everything seemed to him so achingly open and real, so right. As if he had already died and got into another, better world.

Arthur, the second son, was born vociferous and touchy. As if in indignation to the whole world, he was screaming and writhing, and at his first nights with Arthur Jaime did nothing but shook, shook, shook son’s hanging cradle.

Brienne was very weak from that second childbirth, weak and ill, sleepy, and almost did not eat, she was taken to another bedroom, where she only laid, covered with thick bedspreads. Jaime and Selwyn were left face to face with the little ones.

A week later, Brienne finally got better. Maybe the Maister really knew a lot about healing teas (Jaime doubted that), or maybe her native walls cheered her up, but the disease receded, and then disappeared altogether.

Her skin began to turn pink, a weak smile appeared on her lips. Maids put her hair in a braid, brought her tunic and pants, and, emaciated, thin as a shadow, in one of the bright spring days she came to the threshold of his bedroom.

Jaime was sitting on a huge bed (all the beds at Tarth were huge, to match the owners of the castle) rocking the cradle with his sleeping son. Podrick napped on his chest. Brienne stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, and looked at them with a quiet and strange smile.

\- Is it possible for you to get up, wench? - with feigned discontent, he muttered. - Who allowed?

\- Maester Thill, - she answered softly. - Believes that I should get some fresh air.

\- Maybe you should. You could also eat something...

\- Jaime, - she called, and he looked up. - Jaime, thank you.

A wave of indignation rose in him: how dare she thank him for nursing his own children! The anger rose, and then immediately passed.

He saw himself from the outside, one-armed man, almost broken, lost. And his young and still blossoming woman, stately and fair-skinned, strong, calm like the sea ... and their children - so beautiful and strangely similar and terrifyingly not like him and her.

And instead of indignation, a feeling of gratefulness suddenly leapt upward like a flame of a night fire. To her, because of all the men of the Seven Kingdoms she chose him, to the children, because of all the fathers, they chose him, to Evenfall Hall — for accepting him, and to everything around — for he could still remain the part of this world.

Arthur (Jaime chose the name, no one objected) never has caught up with the growth of his brother, but his proud and bright Lannister's character compensated it totally.

He grew up an unusually handsome boy: a mane of golden hair and the blue-green eyes, a color of sea wave. Astonishing beautiful eyes on a precise chiseled face. The brothers almost always kept close, together. No wonder, as according to some folk's concepts, they were almost twins (the pentoshy twins, people say). Often from the top of the cliff, on which the castle was located, two figures were visible below, on the steps leading to the bay: Arthur’s golden crown and white, like flax, and eternally matted, Podrick's hair. Their wooden swords pounded against each other in the courtyard and in the galleries of the castle, the tramp of their feet and laughter resounded here and there. Podrick was much calmer than his brother, and all pranks and misdeeds, more precisely, their ideas, of course, came from the noisy Arthur.  
Servants idolized them, the boys seemed to embody everything that Tarth had never dreamed of before: the strength and the power of future generations, the brought beauty and innate courage of the Tarth's heirs.

Jaime was proud of them, as only a very happy father could be. Brienne adored her sons, how could she only: with this quiet and inexorable power of tenderness, slightly closed, but always ready to listen and help. Happened, she dealt with them more strictly than their father, but even then the boys looked at her with endless admiration and reverence.

Selwyn, at times, preferred Arthur, perhaps because he was the first to take the baby in his arms, or for some other reason - Jaime, of course, secretly wondered, but did not dare to ask out loud.  
Actually, it was Podrick who looked as much like a real son of Tarth, as Selwyn and Brienne themselves, with his height, stamina, white hair, sapphire eyes, and calm nature. But we do not choose who we love, do we?

Three years after Arthur‘s birth, a misfortune happened, and the beam of an old wooden shed fell on Selwyn when he, as usual, arrogantly (still, with such a force) tried to straighten the roof alone. He laid a mighty shoulder on the bearing pillar, and the ancient tree was cracked in half. Beam collapsed on his head, turning a strong old man into a half-dead. After a month of unconsciousness, he died, leaving Brienne in such a huge, confused longing that Jaime himself wanted to cry.

Again he was left alone with the children: while Brienne and the servants were preparing a funeral and a memorial feast, he could only look after the little ones who did not understand a thing. They searched for their grandfather for a long time, until Jaime told them, trying as much as possible to soften the dark truth.

On the night after the funeral, lying in bed with his wife, Jaime embraced her and held her tight. She tried to restrain herself, and then he whispered:

\- Please, Brienne. Do not hold it. Cry. Scream. Do something so I can comfort you.

She almost pushed him away in anger:

\- How dare you...

And he caught her hand with his. She remained still for a moment and then suddenly started to sob. And the tears flowed like a river, her crying was long and desperate, and when, tired of tears, she fell asleep on Jaime’s chest, he stroked her thin and delicate hair for a long time muttering something comforting like an old woman.

In one of those many nights, full of tears and consolations, when they both were tired of sadness and darkness, they threw open the bedroom windows to feel the sea breeze on their skin... and suddenly entwined themselves so eagerly and longingly as if for the first time. And in one of those nights, they conceived the eldest daughter.

Again, Jaime was asked to choose a name. Brienne smiled when he called the baby, picking up her tiny finger:

\- Joanna. Joanna Lannister of Tarth, Seven bless you.

A silly smile wandered across his face, he knew that because his wife snorted and covered her mouth.

She grew up to an amazing girl. Beautiful, golden-haired, with something, imperceptibly reminding him of his mother, but even more of all the Lannisters combined. This proud head, thick curls, and a neat nose, thin lips. A fine build, a dry smile, and a soft and patiently, slightly arrogant manner of uttering words.  
But her big and serious grayish blue eyes were from Brienne. Not the color, but the mood. They always seemed sad to him, but there was something tender and innocent in this sadness, some special charm. Amazing eyes. For just one look of these bright eyes, the knights will fight to win or die... And Jaime was upset.   
To say more precisely: he was troubled beyond his own belief.

Joanna, the biggest treasure of Tarth. 

The older she grew, turning from a serious well-read little girl into a clever and independent young woman - the more Jaime wanted to hide her from the world. He thanked fate for the fact that his family lives on the island, where not everyone could get. However, they were not so far away from King's Landing and from Dorne even, not so far as to hide Joanna from future suitors and proposals. Not so far that Jaime stopped even for a moment experiencing his tremendous, like a winter storm, painful anxiety.


	2. Younger kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime, come back to me. Jaime, please don't go ...  
> Do not leave me.

2\. Younger kids

Sansa was born fast and easy, which Brienne attributed to the healing actions of Sam Tarly, to his spouse's tender care and to the presence of Lady Winterfell at the birth bed.

Although Jaime was pleased with the guests, simply because they delighted Brienne - he felt a little embarrassed by the evaluating gaze of Stark girl. The three of them arrived, Lady Sansa, Sam, and Gilly, as a sign of, probably, complete oblivion of past offenses and the restoration of a friendship between once hostile houses. (And, of course, the Queen of the North was looking for new allies in the south, because all queens and kings are like this).

He wanted very much to ask why she had rejected several proposals from Tyrion (from some point in the time in indecent repetition), but he could guess the answer without questioning.

\- Lovely child, - she said to Joanna, rocking her on her knees, - what a beauty!  
\- She's only two years old, - Brienne smiled weakly. - All the children are lovely at that age ... But she has wonderful hair, don't you think so?  
\- Gods, she is like all porcelain and gold.  
\- You will grow up the most beautiful bride of the Stormlands, - Gilly cooed.

And so they mumbled and lisped, touching and caressing his daughter's curls, while Jaime just sat there with a glued smile at the bedroom window.

Finally, all eyes turned to the newborn baby.  
Gilly stroked her high forehead and showed everyone the strands of white hair at the top of her head:

\- And this hair is just like her mom's.  
\- Yes, there will be nothing to boast about,- Brienne joked, frowning.

Jaime wanted to argue with her, but in the presence of a large number of women, and from the summer heat, which floated out the window, from the worried emotions, from the red wine, he was slightly confused and even ... frightened. Usually sharp on the tongue, he did not recognize himself.

\- Not at all. Your hair is beautiful. It's like a light in the spring, - Sansa said, gently wiping the sweat from the forehead of her lady knight.

Couldn't articulate better, Jaime thought drunkenly.

\- Your daughter will be beautiful. It glows from the inside. She is another treasure.  
\- They say yesterday two senior treasures smashed a stained-glass in a large hall, - Brienne murmured.  
\- What terrible mischief, - Gilly said tentatively.

Sansa snorted with laughter.

Jaime got up and awkwardly bowed to the women.

\- Let me leave you, ladies?

They nodded, releasing him, perhaps, with obvious relief. He seemed to create some kind of awkwardness, his very presence seemed to exude tension and danger. Now it will probably always be like this, he thought.

Heading for the door, he suddenly stopped and turned to them:

\- Should we announce the name? Today or ...?

Looking at his face, Brienne said firmly:

\- Sansa. Her name is Sansa.

A few days later, Lady Stark appeared on the training court. She didn’t have her loyal companions and guards, these silent northerners who now followed her almost everywhere. The sun was already setting, and the guest found Jaime in an awkward position. He was lying on hard white ground, and two wooden swords were put to his chest.

\- Two for one, and I am just a cripple, it should not be counted. And yet! I have to give up, of course! - he said poisonously.

\- You are cheating, - Podrick said seriously.

In his six years, he had a growth of ten-year-old. His unruly white hair was tied in a bun. He did not let the maids cut his hair, which brought the young and inexperienced Septa Marona to tears. In the end, Brienne just told her to leave any attempts to tidy up her firstborn's head.

They took Marona precisely because Jaime thought that only a pure, young being would not inflict on children (and especially daughters) the educational harm that Brienne had experienced in her time. Yes, the ghost of Septa Roella has long loomed over the castle, plunging Jaime into anger and gloom. Brienne often defended her, although in a somewhat usual embarrassed manner, as if she herself did not believe. But Jaime hated the old witch from the heart.

Marona did not overcome Podrick, but she managed to conquer Arthur. His curls, however, were still great. It was as if nature itself had laid them on a pretty little head in such a miraculous way that nothing, not even young Septa's scissors, could disturb that perfection.

Arthur smiled with his sincere and radiant smile.

\- Give up, father!  
\- He tricked us, - Podrick discerningly insisted. - He has to get up and fight again.  
\- Hey, maybe you give me to lie down a little? I am a cripple, I am limping and I am very, very old, so I need some rest, my noble sers.

Arthur hesitantly poked his sword in his breastplate, and then generously announced:

\- You are defeated, but we give you rest!

A face framed by auburn curls appeared in the sky over Jaime.

\- It seems you are in a hopeless situation, Ser Jaime, - Sansa said without a shadow of a smile.

\- I have already surrendered to the mercy of the winners.

Jaime sat down, and both sons immediately clung to his neck. They were a little bit afraid of the strangers, or perhaps they felt the coldness that still remained between him and his guest.

Sansa towered over him, dressed in a simple gray dress, and, as usual, imperturbable. And straight, like a stick. She remained an absolute beauty, but her beauty always seemed to Jaime a bit strange. Perhaps an issue was the impassive gaze of those northern eyes.

\- I wanted to meet you privately, Ser, - she said.  
\- Really? And ... what is required?

She paused awkwardly and even looked at the training court with long and inappropriate attention.

\- I wanted to beg your forgiveness for two things, Ser Jaime.  
\- My forgiveness? - he was amazed.  
\- Yours, - she glanced back at him. Her arms folded together tightened slightly. - I shouldn't have provoked you when the news came from King's Landing... Perhaps this was my fault. You left Brienne, you left Winterfell and rushed to help your sister.

Jaime flinched. The children hugged him tightly, as if in reply. Involuntarily, he stroked Arthur's little hand. Pordrick played with the strings of his sleeve out of boredom.

\- And the second what is my fault, and rather big - I could not stop Brienne, and she had to endure ... all those road troubles.

The delicate phrase, which Sansa resorted to, made him laugh a little. Jaime did not want to spoil this day, and even more so - this conversation with his ridicules. But he could not resist:

\- I can not imagine how you would be able to stop her. My wife is twice your size. And then she was probably three times thicker.

Sansa smiled without joy.

\- Frankly, I did not expect from you ... I did not anchor my hopes on you.

She silenced and bit her lip.

\- Your hopes? Regarding me and Brienne, or just me? - he asked, not without some bitterness.

How many people he disappointed, just boggles the mind. Not that Sansa was listed among those who were important to him. But these confessions sometimes tired him. Standing above him, motionless and stern, she suddenly seemed to him very much like her mother, Lady Catelyn. The way she spoke to him while Jaime sat on a leash in his cage ...

\- Regarding you and your… alliance with Brienne. She is the best of all people I know, Ser Jaime, and I remember many great heroes. Brienne is a pure soul, she is a true knight, a knight of all knights, she is strong, brave, kind, honest, selfless, loyal ... and she is very clever, though vulnerable and trustful. But it always seemed to me that you ... you ...

-That I am not worthy of Brienne, - he finished after her.

Their eyes met, and Sansa did not look away.

\- Right.

\- People may guess wrong, - he said dryly after a long pause. - Even the queens ...

\- I was wrong, Ser Jaime, - she interrupted him. - I see how happy she is now, here ... With you. You made the right choice at the end. Perhaps you have conceived some other path for yourself. But you are no longer the Ser Jaime I knew.

On the back of his head, to which Arthur pressed his hot cheek, ice claws ran.

Some other path.

King Bran certainly had a word with his sister. Jaime had no doubt that someday his crimes and sins, as well as the exploits now hidden from everyone, would come out. And yet he was scared.

\- "Some other path"? Wasn't it the path to Seven Hell. And what could I do? But that has changed. I was in prison when they brought my woman with my newborn son to me, and I ...  
\- You didn’t just sit in captivity waiting for the verdict from Mother of the Dragons, you wanted to die, Ser Jaime. You prayed her for execution. Your brother ... and after a while mine, too, had to dissuade the executioners ...  
\- I've changed my mind.  
\- Perhaps now, - she pointed to the kids, - you do understand how it was right? Your children are wonderful. Your wife ... she was always beautiful to me, but now she is just blossoming next to you. You’ve taken the place of The Evenstar and you actually control half The Stormlands.

He nodded.

\- I went here thinking about what to do if I see that Brienne is not happy.

Jaime's eyebrows crept to his hair.  
To ponder the answers and abandon the most daring in advance, he rose from the ground. The children hung on him, he had to catch Arthur with his good hand, and Podrick himself ran his legs through his bent elbows. Sansa took a step back. He looked down at her.

\- And what would you do? - finally, he asked.

She nervously threw up her hands:

\- You understand perfectly well that I have no power to do anything ... And yet.

\- I will tell you without hiding. I am married the first and only time in my life. Brienne's mother died a long time ago, and Ser Selwyn left us a few years ago. But thanks to you, I can know what I was deprived of until now. This feeling, when you are close to a grumpy, always dissatisfied mother-in-law.

Sansa smiled and immediately bit her cheek from the inside.

\- In the North, we issued royal decrees that allow a woman to do something if her husband torments her and ... or. Or she is unhappy with him.

\- Is that why you came? Were you really afraid of this?  
\- Yes.

He wanted to say something in his defense, or again an embarrassing joke, but Sansa suddenly blurted out:

\- Please, Ser Jaime. Always remain who you are now. I know that evil is in you, it comes not from you, perhaps, but from your blood. Blood is not water, and it is impossible to resist, all this is true. This is how the world works. That's how we all live and survive, and the Lannisters are not unlike that. But all this is insignificant, it does not matter at all, it's all not worth a single tear of her.

She turned and walked away.

In the evening, the wind drove heavy clouds from the west, and they rained. The water shroud covered a beautiful view from one of the upper balconies. And the guests could only admire how, like huge curtains, the walls of rain move over the sea and the harbors below.

\- It's a warm rain, - said Podrick, showing Sam off into the distance. - When it's over, I'll show you where we catch blue crabs. Maester Thill invented traps for them. We weave them from willow twigs.

Sam listened to a boy with respectful attention. Lady Sansa leaned toward Gilly.

\- It's good that it started to rain. I will have time to embroider her little dress because it only remains for us to sit here.  
\- It's even cute, - Gilly smiled, - I've never seen so much sea around.

The maid took Joanna who was asleep from Jaime and then took Arthur by the hand.

\- Maester Thill says that the weather is not conducive to sailing. Some merchant ships will still go to White Harbor, but I would advise you to wait another week with us.

It was not easy for Jaime to say this, but ... sending the dear guests to a possible death because of one sharp conversation? He was not an evil man. At least not so evil.

-You are not embarrassing us at all, - he continued with a kind smile (damned pretender, he perfected his skill over the years). - The castle is huge. Enough space for an entire army.

-You have amazingly changed, Ser Jaime, - Sam suddenly said, and immediately blushed and turned away.

\- Father lost his hand when he defended our mother, - Podrick put in suddenly for no reason. - Everyone in the Stormlands knows about it.

All the adults turned to the boy, some with amazement, some confused. And then, in unison, they turned their eyes on his father.  
Jaime only shrugged.

\- I'm not sure about everyone in the Stormlands.  
-And even King’s Landing. And even the King. This was told by Ser Davos. Onion Knight, - Podrick insisted. - And he knows everything. He reads lots of books. Maybe more than you, Maister Tarly.  
-This ... this may be true, my boy.  
-He also said that the knights always protect the innocent, those who are weaker and those who need them. After all, back then father did not even know that he was to marry mom. He just protected her.

\- Isn't it time for you to sleep, dear friend, - Jaime proclaimed with feigned cheerfulness.

Podrick made a face, but the maid already took his hand.

Jaime left the guests and returned to his wife. Brienne was dozing, leaning against the high pillows. The child lay in her arms, gripping her big, swollen nipple. Little Sansa's eyes were light blue and squinted a bit, which made her even sweeter.

Jaime sat down next to Brienne and pressed his forehead against her broad shoulder. He inhaled her scent, which became so familiar to him - lavender and flax, and a little sea salt. It was the smell of purity, innocence, it always promised him happiness.

\- Don't tell me that you quarreled with them, - she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep. - Say that dinner went well.

He delayed his answer. Outside the windows, rain spurts rustled.

-The weather turned bad, - Brienne yawned.

\- I behaved very well, servants covered dinner for them on the balcony, we gave them Arbor gold and Dornish red, they are completely content and very peacefully admire the views. Everyone is delighted.  
\- Kids are sleeping?  
\- Already yes.  
\- Arthur was grumpy?  
\- Very little.  
\- Arthur didn't call Podrick ‘Ser Leech’ again?  
\- What? No, I told you that it would take a couple of days. He will invent a new offensive nickname, and everyone will forget the leech.

She chuckled.

\- This should comfort us?  
\- Well, in any case, reconcile with reality.

She stroked his hair.  
\- I miss you, Jaime.

He knew what she meant. It will pass several moons before they reunite in bed, and, although these separations were reasonable, necessary, and it did not even occur to Jaime to object - they both missed each other.

They seemed to be serving on an important and necessary errand. The separation made the further connection more acute and delightful.  
And these days after giving birth, they only had to touch each other, sneaking kisses, gentle strokes and smiles. Sansa woke up and, whimpering, tried to grab the nipple that had jumped out of her lips. Brienne helped her, and then threw her head back at the pillow:

\- This time there is so much milk.  
\- This is good?  
\- My breasts hurt.

He put his hand on her neck and stroked, trying to help and not knowing how.

\- Brienne. I shouldn't ask, but ... Tell me. Honestly. You are ... are you happy here? With me? With us?

Her eyes flew open - sharply as if struck.  
She moved her lips and wrinkled her forehead, trying to read something on his face.

\- What? What are you talking about, Jaime?  
\- So ... we are happy, right?

A shadow of long-standing and forgotten pain flashed across her face, and Sansa, as if in reply, began to frantically wave her arms and squeal.

\- Why did you ask?

Because Lady Winterfell, Queen of the North, considers me a bad husband. Because I am a Kingslayer. Because there is evil in me. I'm an incestor. I disgust myself.  
Am I Lannister, in the end, or not?

But he did not say any of this.

\- Because your guests will be interested. 

She frowned, then laughed softly.

\- How did you surmise? They've already asked.  
\- It is not difficult to guess. Lady Sansa does not trust people.  
\- She has plenty of reasons. Want to know what I’ve told her?  
\- Hmm ... Now when I think of this, I guess, no. 

She laughed again, louder this time, childishly stretching her wide and bright lips.

\- Well, that’s good. Because I’ve told them the truth.  
\- That I am beating you, wench?  
\- That I am beating you, Lannister.  
\- Gets our juices flow, huh?  
\- That's what I've explained to them.

He leaned toward and covered her laughing mouth with a kiss.

Two years later, on the same bed, Brienne gave birth to his youngest daughter, but Jaime was not near them.

He stayed away for several months, hating wholeheartedly the place where he had to go. He was greeted by King Bran, he was heard in the Council, but they remained adamant in their requests. The crown needed troops, well-trained and strong young men, to set out to defend Dornish borders. 

Jaime brought troops from Tarth, but this was not enough.

From the very beginning, their meeting in the Red Keep went wrong.

\- I thought that Ser Brienne would lead the army, - Gendry said with obvious disappointment. 

Jaime answered him without turning his head, gazing into Bran Stark’s pale face:

\- My spouse is confined and is about to give birth.

\- Ah, you both don’t waste your time there, - Tyrion remarked. 

Smiles and giggles slid across the faces of those gathered in the Council Hall.  
Seven Hell, Jaime had forgotten how he hated it, and why.

\- Gods will surely bless the children of Tarth, - Bran said impassively.

\- We give the oaths, and we fulfill them, - Jaime frowned. – Every year. This time we gave more. We promised a thousand to protect the borders, but I also brought you more than five hundred strong and well-trained swordsmen.

\- The Crown thanks you for this, Ser Jaime. But we need more.

\- I beg your pardon, Sers? - now he turned to Davos and to the rest, unable to hide his irritation anymore. - What does it mean?

\- You can not just sit on Tarth and wait for Dorne to once again begin to revenge the inhabitants of Reach. War can come to the Stormlands if we do not strangle it in incipience. Dornish people are touchy, ill-tempered.

\- What is their resentment this time? - Jaime shrugged. He, of course, knew that Dornish Marches had remained tense since the… probably, the days of the Tower of Joy. However, over the years on Tarth, he managed to break the habit of understanding intrigues and endless games of the mainland.

\- Take a Dornish man and show him a finger, he will be offended, - said Tyrion in a casual tone. - The fact is, my dear brother, that the troops are really moving on us.

\- What do you want from the people of Tarth? If need, we will stand shoulder to shoulder with you.

\- We don't need that promises, Lannister, - Robin Arryn said gruffly. - We need your skill to train hundreds more.

\- That's why we asked about Ser Brienne, - Podrick added quietly.

\- Well, forgive me for not coordinating the time of my child's birth with you.

\- You will replace her, - the King said dryly. - You were one of the best warriors in my ... youth. And, I think, you remained the same. Turned out, you are a talented commander and skilled tutor. The training of your soldiers is impressive.

\- I’m limping and I don’t have a hand, - Jaime said bitterly.

\- It's the reason why you should start training sooner. You cannot fight, you grow old and you become slower, but you are not stupid. Soldiers love you, they listen to you and you understand them perfectly.

\- Should I go with them? To Dorne?

Even the thought made him nauseous. But he knew, deep down, he knew that he would not refuse to fight and would not turn back, even if he is doomed to regret it for a remaining couple of moons of his life.

\- What is the use of a cripple on the battlefield, - Tyrion grinned thinly. - Do not overestimate yourself, brother.

Jaime lowered his eyes.

\- I'll do whatever you want, my King.

Tamed lion, with pulled out fangs and claws, that's how he felt himself at the Court. But the thought of his wife helped him to hold on, get up from day to day, walk through the hated galleries, which even rebuilt remembered everything about him - and seemed to whisper after him.

Jaime, the Golden Lion of Lannisters. Jaime, Ser Jaime, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Jaime, white cloak and golden armor. Jaime, Kingslayer. Jaime, Oathbreaker. Jaime, unrighteous  
lover of his own sister. 

Jaime, come back to me. Jaime, please don't go...

Do not leave me.


	3. Pockmarked face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing worse than failing to protect the one you love.

Yet sometimes, during those long days and months in King's Landing, Jaime felt almost happy. These moments of joy lasted only a short time - before he finished reading the message brought by the raven.  
For the most part, these notes were written by her firm hand, always in such a clean and neat manner. In the curves of these lines, he read her purity, her bright mind, and prudence, her care, her kindness.

“Children play The maiden, The knight and The bear, dear Jaime, and I wonder, who could teach them that? Everybody in the castle is healthy and all send you their greetings. The little girl feels great.”

“Podrick smashed his whole face, falling from the stairs, and then Arthur rolled down behind him, skinning his poor back. I do not know what to say. There was a lot of shouting, noise, and blood, and Joanna, at the sight of her brothers, screamed so much that old Patsy became completely deaf. The rest we cope.”

“I miss you a lot. Children ask about you a hundred times a day. But remember, we are all proud of you. Tarth had its sworn and we are faithful to our oaths.”

Only one note was from Maester Thill, and Jaime reread it many times before he showed it to his brother:

“The gods again gave you a daughter, my lord. Glory to the Mother, all are alive and well.  
At the insistence of Lady Tarth, the girl is named Catelyn.  
They both feel good and all your family blesses you to do your duty in the name of King Bran, no matter how difficult this burden may be.”

Tyrion just grinned.

\- I can’t believe it. “Catelyn”? I swear by all the sinners of Seventh Hell if you had not been away, and for so long, you would have been asked. But you should have spoken before leaving Tarth. There are many other beautiful names for women.

\- Why do you think that I was not asked? - Jaime bristled.

\- I see it on your face.

\- The true imp. However, you are right. I was not.

\- leave it as is? Oh, I also see it on your perfect, but stupid face. Of course, you will leave it.

\- I would not like to make a fuss because of some nonsense. Also, I am guilty.

\- Well, it goes again! You stand at the head of a big, rich and strong House, now not you should be the bannermen of Baratheon, but they should be yours. It was not whims and debauchery that brought you to us, but a matter of the highest importance, your own vows and honor. And here you are, worried as you have puddled beside the pot.

Jaime sighed.

\- I didn't want to leave them, - he said sincerely. - I am rooted in the castle. I am anxious every time I leave them.

Tyrion stared at him intently and in mild amazement.

\- The island is now not in any danger. And if we crush the Dornish, the danger will disappear altogether.

\- You know what I mean.

Tyrion paused, then poured himself a glass of wine. His hair turned gray over the last years, his face became wrinkled, but his sinister and clear eyes did not lose their shine. 

He took a big sip, put down his glass, thought, and then again raised it to his lips. Jaime watched in fascination as the red flesh of wine played in the sunbeam.

\- Perhaps I should offer a glass to you, in honor of little Cat’s birth, - finally, after draining the glass, Tyrion muttered.

\- Were there any messages from Lady Delaney?

\- I don't know. I haven't been to the fish stalls for ages. Ser Davos, perhaps, just joked about the crab meat. Yet, I still do not need it at all...

\- Should I go there myself?

\- Don't you dare, - Tyrion said quickly. - I'll figure it out myself. If I find out something, I’ll inform you.

\- Could it be that ... Could it be that the illness in Tyrosh has spread further? People are dying of scarlet pox, it is rumored.

Jaime asked this with such sick hope that he almost threw up from disgust to himself.

\- Tyroshy people accustomed to the scarlet fistulas, many have had this disease in their childhood and nothing like this already can kill them. If anyone gets hurt then it should be about the newcomers ... - Tyrion tapped his lower lip. - It would be necessary to introduce a quarantine for ships. Of course, greedy merchants will find a way to get around... However, it does not hurt to issue a couple of acts.

He grabbed a quill and began to write, and it was unclear whether the thought of the acts really captured him, or whether Tyrion was so cleverly trying to end an uncomfortable conversation.

Jaime got up and walked out of the Hand's chamber without another word.

News from Tarth stopped coming a few weeks before his departure. Jaime became troubled, he did not sleep well, and in his dream he saw a woman with a face hidden by a scarlet veil. When he lifted the veil, hoping and fearing to see his sister's face, he saw bloody ulcers, and those crusted, rotting lips parted in a wicked grin. Scarlet Pox. He was ashamed of the fact that he wanted the disease to spread throughout Essos and destroy the traces of his sins. It hurt him that he decided to wish it at all.

But his true pain waited for him to come.  
When he boarded the ship, Sam Tarly, out of breath, caught up with him on the gangway. Sweat rolled down his face.

\- Ser Jaime, wait, wait!

He turned around.

\- We thank you for helping us with the troops.  
\- I did what I had to do. And all I could.  
\- Oh, of course. Of course.

An awkward silence. Jaime stared into that kind, plump face, mentally praying to say goodbye as soon as possible.

\- You see, our King ... King Bran. He has a certain talent.  
\- Foresight, - Jaime interrupted impatiently. - So what? He never reveals prophecies. He is only guided by them. Or that’s what we are supposed to believe.  
\- That's the way it is, - Tarly said with some melancholy pride. - And yet he told me to catch up with you and give you a gift.

\- A gift?

Sam handed him a velvet pouch, strapped of a string. In appearance, it was something heavy, rounded. Jaime, without taking his eyes off Maester, pulled the string and opened it.  
A bottle with a bit of oil, dark, covered with wax and cork.

\- What is it?  
\- He told me to tell you ... the King told me to tell you that this is a gift for Tarth's little daughter, - Sam said with great effort. - I made it myself. This is ... a simple recipe. I just read that ...  
\- Why? What for?  
\- He said you will soon understand.

Jaime suppressed the urge to throw the bottle into the sea. He hastily and irritably said goodbye and turned away so that he would no longer look at Tarly, at the walls of the Red Keep above the harbor, and not feel the foul smell of the city and the slums.

He arrived on Tarth a few days later, the wind drove the boat on fast waves. The bright sun was shining, people in the docks recognized and greeted him, someone bowed, someone smiled, someone looked with gloomy approval. They did not like it when Evenfall Hall was left without a master. Of course, Brienne was a full-fledged mistress here, and they, perhaps, loved her more than they loved Lannister ...

But they assigned, appropriated him, long ago and forever, and now Jaime often felt as if they did not serve him, but he served them. And the long-awaited return of the prodigal lion was to their liking.  
He overtook the guards, the soldiers, and the servants that dragged behind him with the bales of gifts and purchases (spices, silk, weapons, armor, porcelain dolls, gilded wooden horses, and other trash, of which the old Jaime never cared, but the new one wanted to buy all of that and to throw at the feet of his children and wife).  
He almost ran up the high stairs, so that the crippled knee ached, shooting fire arrows at his hip. At the gate, he was met by Marona and, sniffing, she led him into a dank stone sept.

There he saw his wife. 

She was lying on the floor, prostrated at the limestone figure of the Stranger. Gods here were erased by the winds and dampness. The statue had no face even before, but now it was just a cut of a stone, eaten away by time.  
Brienne did not cry but rather whined. Next to her in a small basket he saw a child. Her attentive gray eyes were filled with red tears. All her naked body was sore and oozed with blood and pus. The skin from the little hands peeled off like rags. She also did not cry, but she breathed very loudly, with a hoarse and gurgling, and Jaime suddenly realized in icy horror that she was dying. 

His daughter is dying.

Scarlet Pox seemed to hear his wishes and instead of Essos It came to Tarth, and demanded It's share. Most of the inhabitants of the island, just like the Tyroshy people, had been ill with it in their childhood, and since they remained alive, they did not fear the disease. But small children, newborn babies, old people — Pox took them away with great pleasure. 

The red veil on the dead face. Yellow pus from burst ulcers. Lannister colors. Hateful, damned, rotting.

\- I beg you, don't take her from me. Do not take her, do not take her from me, do not take her, - Brienne raised her head and murmured words that probably had long been stuck to her lips and larynx.

She later told Jaime that at first, she prayed for Mother for healing, but the child was getting worse, the poultices and ointments of Meister Thill did not help. On the morning of that day, having heard the terrible crepitation of the baby's breath, and having understood everything, she went to the sept to enter into a fight with the Stranger. However, her courage quickly faded away. 

There is nothing worse than failing to protect the one you love.  
There is nothing worse and destructive. 

And her resolve had fallen, courage was replaced by despair. She began to beg.

Dressed in an old dark blue tunic, with disheveled hair and a face hollow and thin from grief, she seemed to him very fragile and strangely small. Maybe because she did not rise from her knees, even when he came up to take her daughter in his arms.

\- Do not touch her, my lord, - Marona screamed, but he only looked at her and the girl retreated.

\- I won't get sick, - he quietly assured her.

Jaime, always sensible, but never cautious was not so sure. But a strange feeling of calmness, pity and love was born in him. His heart was breaking from the sight of a sick girl. He wanted to hold her close and calm her down and protect her. But he knew that any touch hurts his poor child. And he needed to act, and quickly.

\- Septa Marona, please, bring us the thinnest fabric. Silk, or whatever ...

Brienne turned her tear-stained face to him.

\- You are back. You are back ... Forgive me. Jaime, please. I did not ... I could not save her, and I am so ... I'm so sorry, I prayed to the Stranger, I thought that ...

\- She won't die, - Jaime said. - Not today.

That's how they found out the true payment of this trip to King's Landing. Jaime was paid with medicine that cured the baby, and no Brienne nor him never forgot it.

Wrapping the tiny body of Catelyn in ointment-soaked silk, they carried her into the bedroom. The hushed kids looked at this procession with a mixture of hope and adoration. Their father is back, so now everything will be fine. 

Oh, how much Jaime would give to really be what they saw in him.

By next morning the little Cat's wheezing subsided, her breathing became even and silent. Brienne washed her face with a handkerchief dipped in Tarly's potion. The ulcers began to dry on the third day. Soon she was hungry and demanded a breast.

And soon Scarlet Pox left the castle, leaving only a farewell gift for the youngest of the Tarth daughters.

Although her wounds and ulcers were healed and gone, Catelyn’s face, her back and shoulders stayed forever pitted and covered with the scars. Over the years, freckles also appeared on the skin, dark freckles, motley, like the spots on a seagull egg.

If somebody would ask, why he loved the youngest daughter so much, he would not have found the answer. Perhaps because of this wave of compassion, pity and pain that he experienced when he first saw her? Maybe because he saved her, nursed and suffered this love, begging his small and sick child: just live, stay with me, do not leave, I beg you, do not leave, do not leave me. 

Maybe because over the years she become similar to Brienne more than anyone has. Her mutilated face and those delightful eyes. They looked into the world with steadfast calm and fearlessly, but so innocent, so sincere.  
Maybe because she grew up in a stubborn and courageous girl, she had a character from Warrior, from her mother, from all the knights of the world.  
Maybe because, seeing her interest in armor and weapons, Jaime began to train her very early and on a par with the boys, and she soon surpassed them in archery, in speed, in fencing. The quiet and calculating calm before the fight - and the mad rage with which she fought so much reminded him of Brienne.

His three daughters were always close to each other, which pleased him and sometimes amazed. Painfully different they were.  
Candid, prudent, detached, always so courteous - Joanna. To everything she had an answer, and, as a rule, it was read from the books.  
Bright, compassionate, friendly, like the light of spring, kind-hearted and open Sansa. All of the smiles and the sun. Being a little girl, she rushed with hugs to everyone she met. She nursed sick stray dogs and befriended the neighboring cats. She gave the money and bread to every beggar in the harbors. Family lost almost all her earrings and bracelets in the greedy hands of those moochers who knew about the big heart of Sansa Lannister.  
And Catelyn. A pockmarked face. The girl knight, proud, stubborn and straightforward, strong as a man, but lithe as a tightrope walker.

Occasionally, Jaime thought of her anxiously, trying to unravel the future fate, but never arrogant pity was added to his sympathy. Over the years, everyone has become accustomed to a pockmarked face.  
A person gets used to seeing anything and ceases to notice both ugliness and beauty. In the first few minutes, you want to look away from her, and then you just stop seeing blemishes and scars, and you start to see the real Catelyn. Her sagacious, retentive mind and her noble-mindedness. And how skillfully she moves, how laughs infectiously, how her eyes shine.

She will find her own way. She will choose her own path.

And people like those who once loved Brienne will love her too.


	4. Seven stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Why did you hesitate? You almost killed yourself, my stupid Lannister.

Brienne walked with such a huge belly that the midwives and servants awaited the appearance of a little giant. Her legs were swollen, her face was pale and gray, she was sick until the very night of childbirth, she suffered from thirst and migraines. Jaime wanted to somehow ease her suffering, but he could do little. 

The man is only the culprit, and therefore powerless and useless, and all the pain is on a woman.

This battle - the battle of women - on the bed of birth would have remained a mystery to him if he had gone. But he did not want to leave his wife and to wait in his chambers. He held her hand, squeezed it for several hours. When Brienne opened her fingers, he saw that his own fingers had darkened, and the entire hand was covered with bruises and scratches from her nails.

Her lost, empty, wet with tears face stood for a long time before his eyes. 

He kissed her cold, perspiring forehead before taking the child with his only arm. The second child lay on the scarlet sheets between her long legs sprawled, and in the trembling light of the candles, it seemed to him just a little lump of dark flesh, like a skinned rabbit or a stone-killed bird. 

The kid did not breathe. He was in no hurry to be born after his brother, and then he was completely stuck, and the midwife mumbled either prayers or curses. Finally, thrown into the world by Brienne’s last enormous effort, the child remained motionless and lethargic.

While Jaime was hugging the elder, Marona grabbed the dead baby and, with unexpected strength in such a thin and scanty body as hers, began to shake it. She glanced at Jaime with some stern determination and then held the baby to her face. She pressed her lips to his tiny face. For a minute it seemed that Marona was kissing him goodbye. Jaime stared at her with shock. Brienne lay, eyes closed, unable to utter a word out of fatigue and loss.

And suddenly the child began to move and turned red and pink. Jaime thought he heard his first breath. The midwife snatched the baby, turned it over and sealed such a resounding slap on the small arse that the flame of the candles extinguished for a moment. The child choked on his own cry.

“Tenacious,” said the midwife with secret pride, and the septa suddenly sank to the floor and shook.

Jaime gazed at this female battle with horror and in some enchanted stupor. He saw many battles, he saw many births, or at least he thought he saw ... But this stubborn desperation with which the women — the old hag from the harbor, shy septa from the Reach and his own bloody wife — fought for the half-dead child struck him to the depths of the soul.

They've put the children on Brienne’s chest. Shriveled and alike, as if someone for a joke just simply split the same baby into two, like the dark spots they lay on her white skin.

\- They are boys, - said the midwife. - Look neat. Give them a breast, my lady. And may the gods send you more milk. Would my Lord please repay ...  
\- Marona, let her be paid.  
\- I would have a glass of wine, my lord, - the witch muttered guiltily. - My throat is like sand. I screamed a lot.

Servants washed the children and changed the sheets. When everyone was gone, and the newborn kids, after eating enough, fell asleep, dawn was already seeping through the bedroom windows. Jaime, like the midwife, wanted to drink, but he just leaned against the wall - and his legs failed him. So he stayed - sitting by the wall and half asleep.

\- Poor thing, - said Brienne. Through the dream, Jaime wanted to argue, to say, everything is all right with him. 

But suddenly he realized that she was talking to the younger son.

\- Why did you hesitate? You almost killed yourself, my stupid Lannister.

The child squeaked in response. His brother whimpered, barely hearing a familiar voice.

What is it like to always be together?

Oh, Jaime knew this very well. And he and Cersei once lay on the mother's chest, breathing in the same rhythm, responding to each sound side by side, listening to each other. They say they held their hands at birth. His sons broke their hug, and it nearly cost one of them his life ...

Jaime fell half asleep, not rising from the cool stone floor of the bedroom. Morning flooded the room with a gentle light. Down the castle, under the rocks, the sea was roaring, and other scants were mixed with the copper smell of blood in the room — greenweed and heather, young foliage washed with dew and freshly baked bread which the castle women always baked for an early breakfast.

On the same day, they named the twins.

In the beginning, Brienne took the elder in her arms and, kissing his forehead, looking into the deep green eyes, said:

\- Galladon. Fate brought you back to Tarth.

The younger one, the one who brought them so much emotion, stared at his mother with mute reproach. Brienne looked at her husband.

\- Gerion, - said Jaime. - Fate brought you home.

For some reason, both of them, Jaime and Brienne, could not hold back tears. Perhaps they were just agitated, exhausted because the birth was difficult. Perhaps they gave the slack because they were alone, without servants and helpers around.

But at another moment it seemed that the lost souls of those who had long gone to distant unknown lands stood around a wide bed and looked at the newborns.

No one could ever distinguish them, so much they turned out to be similar. It was one man, but for some reason, some mocking higher powers divided him in half. They even spoke in unison.

Seven years later, Jaime presented a crossbow to Catelyn, and, playing with it, Gerion almost cut off the phalanx of his left little finger. Thus, a mark was born that no longer allowed the boys to impersonate each other. However, Brienne later confessed to Jaime that she always knew which of them was Gerion.

\- My heart hurts more for him, - she said simply.

Fortunately, Gerion did not completely lose his little finger, he could still shoot a bow and hold a sword, but his finger had healed incorrectly, and half of the phalanx was missing along with the nail.

Otherwise, he was an exact copy of his brother. White hair, white skin, a scattering of pale freckles on the cheeks, dark green piercing eyes, golden eyelashes, so long, curved that they could decorate some girl. However, for the rest, they did not get either the beauty or the grace of the Lannister. As the strength of Tarth's. 

Thin, tall and fast, they moved everywhere in a rush.

Both sword-fought perfectly, with such incredible speed that the swords merged into blurry stripes, and the wind whistled, cut and broken. In the battle, they preferred to dodge, deceive, fool the enemy, so that Podrick or Arthur would fall to the ground, entangled in their own legs.

Another talent manifested itself early in the twins – the talent of an excellent liar and narrator. Their dry and cynical humor was born out of nowhere, the joke suddenly fell from the lips - and Jaime, and even more so Brienne - did not know whether to choke on laughter, or to spank the rascals, both at once.

They were not alike to anyone in the castle or to any of their ancestors, and this at first confounded Jaime. But one day the truth was revealed to him when Tyrion, who had come to visit Tarth family, was playing with the kids and was so delighted to tell him:

\- I swear to you, brother, no one expected such clever boys from you. You outdid yourself. Just think, they are already reading, it's in four years! Glorious Lann the Clever would be proud of them.

\- So are you, - said Jaime.

\- So am I, - said Tyrion smugly. - Two bright minds, that's all I can ask for. I will make them the wittiest guys of Seven Kingdoms.

\- Please, - said Brienne, coolly, - don't get too carried away. Only the Gods know what will come out in the end ...

\- Still, - Tyrion was not offended, - Yes, I am not the best example to follow. But you must admit, my lady, the little ones are smart beyond their years. Their mind requires polishing and sharpening.

\- What are you going to sharp it with? - grumbled Jaime. – With a joke about a donkey and a honeycomb?

\- Books, - Tyrion pouted. - Books have made me who I am.

It was hard to argue here.   
And, if something these two boys had taught Jaime, then it was a sudden understanding: children are not part of and not the continuation of parents, not the embodiment of their hopes and aspirations, but completely separate, strange people.   
Galladon and Gerion formed a union, a brotherhood in which no one else, including their parents, had an entry.

When the twins grew up, they fell in love with wandering around in the harbors, at brokerage desks, and on merchant ships. They quickly learned languages, and soon spoke freely with merchants in any dialect of the Free Cities.

Another talent was revealed - the boys were natural born traders. They exchanged trinkets for piles of coins, bargained to the last, they acted with flattery and with chatter. In the harbors, they were called the Two Faces. Like one boy in two bodies, they ran between ships and counters, here and there exchanging either a sharp joke, or a practical remark, or listened to disputes in foreign languages, or made their little deals, or pleased the random listener with an amazing story.

Neither Jaime nor Brienne were delighted with these skills, but what they had to do. In the family, where two knights born the knights one after another, sooner or later those will appear to whom fate will prepare a different path.

Jaime spoiled his children, one and all, he understood that perfectly. So what? What is the harm? Fortunately, none of them inherited Lannister’s cruelty, which manifested itself in Cersei and, Gods witnesses, in the unfortunate bastard Joffrey.

For the rest, he relied on their natural inclinations and talents. The strength of Podrick, Arthur's innate chivalry, the beauty of Joanna, the kindness of Sansa, the sincerity of Catelyn and the brilliant cunning of the twins — all of this was bestowed upon him as if undeserved gifts. He learned to appreciate what he has.

He remembered one of the holidays, which fell on the eight-year anniversary of the twins. For some reason, on Tarth, the summer solstice has always been celebrated with a big fuss. In small villages along the coast and in the valleys, peasants and fishermen burned huge bonfires and drank new wine to the point of exhaustion. Guys and girls were snooping around the bushes and wooded glades, discovering the first taste of sinful pleasures. The spirit of uncontrollable fun and valiant valor flew around.

A bonfire was built in a small bay under the western wall of the castle.  
The secret place of all children's games, a sandy beach surrounded by harsh rocks. Once upon a time, Brienne, a little girl, dived here, under the displeased supervision of Septa Roella.

The sun fell beyond the horizon, leaving the sky a delicate blue and gold, and the first stars already lit up above. A fire crackled cheerfully as Jaime threw dry branches. The sand became cool, the sea quietly whispered. Brienne put down her large cloak. The girls sat on it, leaning against the mother. Joanna braided Sansa's light golden curls into small braids. Sansa wove the strands of Catelyn’s hair into a soft braid that looked like a crown. 

Arthur and Podrick, tired of running around with the twins in the surf, returned to the fire and began to sharpen their swords. The twins lay down on the wet sand and stared into the ringing darkness of the summer sky.

\- Maester Thill taught us to know the stars, - Galladon said. - Over there - a maiden on a horse. And these two are the eyes of the Stranger.

Arthur looked up.

\- Where is the lodestar?  
\- Always in the north, - Podrick said. 

Catelyn pressed her cheek to mother's hair. Brienne put an arm around her shoulder.

\- They say that in Eyrie the stars hang so low that they can be torn from the sky like apples, - Joanna remarked. - I would like to see it.  
\- They won't let you go in there, - Arthur chuckled. - We all know that father will never let us go ... Maybe only Two Faces will run away, they are capable to do something like this.

Jaime did not want to enter into disputes, which for some time had acquired a completely unbearable scandalous connotation. His elders rushed from Tarth, and he understood them - one cannot grow on the island and not wish to see the world around.

\- Look, - said Jaime to distract them. - Over there, next to the evening star. A constellation of seven stars.

The children stared at the place where he had prodded the tip of the sword.

\- What constellation?  
\- Father, I really didn't think that you know them, - Joanna exclaimed.

\- Well, - said Jaime, - I don’t know everything about stars. But this, can you see? It's you. Joanna, - he pointed to the brightest star. - Podrick. Arthur is near. The two little ones are Gerion and Galladon. Sansa. Catelyn.

He poked the tip of the sword into the starry sky, and his children stared mouth open. Even Podrick, who had already become a giant, broad-shouldered youth, even skeptical twins, and his trustful Sansa, and openly surprised Catelyn, and frowning Joanna.

They seemed to look in the mirror above them.

Soon the fire went out, the night shrouded the coast with coolness, and they returned to the halls.

Jaime always remembered this evening. And many years later these seven stars shone to him, in the longest nights, in the most impenetrable darkness.


	5. Tourneys and sapphires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could anyone warn him that being the father of seven growing children, and so painfully different, is dangerous to the health of his mind?

The boy's name was Ans. He stood aside, shyly sullen and looked at the guests frowningly, and this look seemed to Jaime very familiar. It reminded him of the young Snow.

\- His mother died in childbirth, - said Tormund, rather offhandedly. - And we don't know the father, nobody knows. We had a large run from pasture to the north, and first I had to take it. But I did not know what to do with it. Teats I have not. I would give him to some woman, but all were busy with so much to do. And then Jon fed him with elk milk. Jon is kind of his father. I will make him the heir if he proves himself good. Until now he was a perfect kid. Though a bit grumpy. Hey, come here, sullen face. He loved to be here while he was small. We rarely go south, but something pulls him straight here. Kids like the Wall. Huge and magic. Well, this is like a fairy tale to get. And your kids will like it here, woman.

Having finished the tirade, Tormund stared at Brienne with tender and fierce adoration.  
Jaime felt a stab of jealousy but chose to ignore it. 

Ans approached the guests. His fur jacket was wide open, and beneath it was a linen shirt embroidered in subtle black tracery. He was armed with two rather short and thin swords in a plain leather sheath. Swords were crossed behind his back. Jaime thought it was a pretty handy way to carry arms, though dangerous.  
Brienne gave him a smile, but the boy did not respond. He must have never seen so many people from the south in his life. Podrick and Arthur gave him a stern look. The girls bowed. Jaime nodded, and only Sansa, always kind-hearted, tried to keep up the conversation.

\- It is nice to meet you, Ans, - she said politely. - Will you show us the Wall?

He looked at her and seemed to be lost forever.

He had olive-brown skin and wild dark eyes. Shiny black hair lay on his shoulders in thick waves. If it were not for the shyness that Jon Snow had brought up in him, and not the sullenness inherent in him by nature, he could have passed for the true handsome. Among the Wildlings, Jaime sometimes noticed them – if you wash them, dress them, and teach them manners, they will be a true decoration to any ball in King's Landing.

The Night Watch was supposed to still exist, but over the years of inactivity, it transformed into settlements along the Wall. The crows, deprived of the need for service, had families, children, and houses with gardens.  
The watch posts themselves have long been disbanded. Only the most faithful remained here, and those who had nowhere to go and no one to start a family with - disabled people, old people, and the few remaining romantics, who arrived in the North for adventures and the spirit of legends. Little was left for them to quench their thirst.

In the great hall, they still supported the fire and set the tables. However, slight desolation reigned everywhere. But any guests were provided with shelter and food. And paying tribute to former merit, Jaime and his wife had been given the lodge of the Lord Commander. 

The North reminded them of many things, of the happiest and the darkest nights, and Jaime felt a mixture of nostalgia and regret here.

The children were excited about the trip before, and now, at its highest point, were totally delighted.  
Tormund arrived at the Wall exactly for the arrival of the southerners. Someone sent him a message, suspected Jaime. Someone in the North still considered the loss of Brienne (as the wife of their leader) quite sensitive. It must have been that even the presence of a happy husband and seven children did not embarrass them. Who knows, a woman’s heart can always be won back.

With Tormund also a squad of wildlings came, and Jon Snow - and this boy, young Ans.

Brienne was so genuinely pleased to see Snow and Tormund that Jaime did not dare to interpose between them. Prudence told him that if Brienne was glad to meet her friends and comrades, it would be completely wrong to spoil her mood with jealousy. But some part of him continued to be indignant, jealousy pricked from the inside and spoiled the otherwise charming trip.

The next evening, after everyone had walked along the Wall (the younger ones spit down, the older ones examined the lifting device, Brienne grumbled at them not to go to the very edge, and so on, and so on) - Tormund and Jon arranged a small melee between northerners and their guests.

Seven out of ten victories went to the Podrick, huge and calm, like North himself, and Jaime was terribly proud. Another victory was for Catelyn and two - for Arthur. Against northern rage, southern elegance was often powerless. There was an only frank force in honor.

And yet there was another victory that both parents managed to notice. After Sansa ran up to Ans who had been defeated (Catelyn nearly crushed his throat with a long curved sword that Jaime had bought her in White Harbor) and, sitting down beside him, stretched out her hand to him - everything had clear explanations.

When it was time to leave, Sansa turned around for so long that Jaime was afraid his daughter would break her neck. She was fourteen, and seemingly, it was already worth start looking for the marriage - but he hesitated, as he hesitated also with Joanna.

Usually cheerful, ready to support any conversation, Sansa was silent all the way through the forest, and then suddenly wept.

Brienne stared at Jaime in silent terror.

Jaime took his horse next to her and gestured for her to slow down. They let the children and the soldiers go ahead, and when the procession had gone far enough, Jaime said:

\- This boy looks like an Ibbenese. Snow claims that Ibben folks saw him as their when Tormund's people were trading in Eastern Watch. Even by the standards of the Wildlings, he is rootless.

Brienne was musingly staring ahead.

\- She will meet lots more adorable young men, - insisted Jaime.  
\- He is the son of the leader, even if foster. He was raised by Snow. He is no longer a rootless kid. He is shy, but not harsh and I liked him actually. And even if they will never meet again, Sansa should remember the happy moments, not your stupid grunt.  
\- You've lost your mind, wench.  
\- This is just her very first love. Yes, she will meet the other men. But now she has these new feelings. It is an awe, but it is also a pain. Don’t you dare to say at her presence something rude.  
\- They knew each other for only a week! Gods, I hope it did not come to some nonsense ... He is sixteen, the blood at this age just boils ...  
\- Jaime!

So they argued all the way to Winterfell and did not come to an agreement. 

And then there was a long path to King's Landing. 

They arrived just in time, a week early before the King's Tourney began. 

Where so many events happened at once, that Jaime later, remembering, was only amazed at how he managed to keep himself sane. Could anyone warn him that being the father of seven growing children, and so painfully different, is dangerous to the health of his mind?

When greetings and shouts of joy were heard, when Podrick picked up a bouquet of roses thrown by some young girl and his face lit up with a radiant smile, Jaime out of the corner of his eye saw a movement near the barriers. His fatherly flair did not disappoint.  
He turned and followed the thin tall figure that was heading straight for the horses. Somewhere she got the armor, he thought with annoyance. From under the silver helmet, which was too big, a golden braid streamed down her back.

He limped behind, squeezing between the benches and stepping on someone's feet. But he obviously lacked speed. He was overtaken. Brienne, in several broad and decisive steps, caught up with her daughter and in one smooth movement tore off the helmet from her head. Catelyn almost lost her balance by surprise. Horses nervously snorted, grooms stared at the girl in knightly attire with undisguised curiosity.

\- Where do you think you go?  
\- I want to show off my skills! I can fight! I am a knight too!  
\- You are not. You can not. Yet. 

Jaime limped over to his wife and daughter and grabbed Catelyn by the elbow.

\- Hey, hey, sweetling. You can not participate in the tourney, you are only twelve. Please, darling, think it yourself…  
\- Yes, I can! Father, you taught me everything. You know that I could win ... Please, why don’t you both believe in me, even a little! - she almost sobbed.

Brienne was impended over her, still quite formidable, even if not in her armor. She was wearing a long velvet gown that Sansa Stark had made especially for her. This dress, azure-blue, with a lined dark pink silk train, was almost the only one in the world in which his wife looked really stunning.

\- Go get a descent clothes and take this armor off, - she said calmly. - This helmet is rubbish, you would only break your head. I assure you, these plates are no better.

She threw the helmet on the ground.

\- Because you did not allow me to take MY armor from home.  
\- Because everyone suspected it was going to be like this, - Jaime grumbled.  
\- Let me go, - Catelyn jerked a hand from his fingers. - Mama! Tell him to let me go.  
\- Well, don't yell at us, - Brienne never raised her voice to the children, didn't do that even now. - Take off this mummer’s armor and give me the sword ...

Catelyn drew a sword from the wide leather sheath, and Jaime was taken aback.

\- Tell me you wanted to play a trick and joke us, - he murmured. – I’ve bought you a sword. You do not…  
\- I needed that one! What do you think, with what else should I win? - Catelyn shouted defiantly.  
\- You stole the Widow Wail, - Brienne said sternly.  
\- Oh, and why I did not ask you. Because I knew that you would refuse me. - Her directness was sobering like a bucket of ice water. - What, would you let me?  
\- This is your father's sword. Give it back to him. 

Catelyn reluctantly obeyed. Jaime finally let go of her elbow.

\- Go to your room with Septa Marona. Now. And you will stay there until our departure to Tarth. 

\- I hate you, - the girl suddenly shouted into her mother’s face. - I hate all of you!

She burst into tears and ran away.

At dinner, the clouds thickened. Despite the victories won by Podrick, the mood was gloomy.

\- What happened to our Cat? What did you do to her? She does not talk to me and locked herself in her room, - Podrick said distraughtly.  
\- She didn't lock herself, they’ve locked her, - said Arthur. - Mother? Am I right?  
\- She took her father’s sword, - Brienne put down her fork and stared at her sons with a frown. - And I want everyone to know. If someone takes these swords without our permission, the punishment will be severe.  
\- Father? And you let this happen?  
\- Theft or ... what is "this"? - Jaime made a slack attempt to sneak away from the scandal.  
\- All this, - Podrick thundered his glass on the table with a bang. - She wanted to participate in the tourney for so long…  
\- Do you think it was a good idea? By the way, it looks like you knew. Arthur, did you too? Galladon, Gerion, Sansa?

Younger children in unison shook their heads, fear appeared in their eyes.

\- Well, thank gods.  
\- Why haven’t you let her? Is it because she is a girl? – Arthur’s cheeks were scarlet from the anger.  
\- It is because she is only twelve, - Jaime felt himself on the edge after which he could start to roar and shout.  
\- Please, everyone, - Brienne said it to children, but looked at her husband. – The punishment is not for wanting to be a knight, it is for the sword. Stop this foolish dispute.

Gods, what a terrible evening.  
The next day was not better, though.

\- Father? It's true?  
\- What? -Jaime has never wanted to hide from his own children so much.  
And besides, he knew what Podrick was talking about. This was clear from the moment his triumph in tourney gave way to gloomy and obvious discontent.

\- Do you want to give them Arthur?  
\- As Arthur decided. We do not want to resist his desire ...  
\- I also want to serve in the Kingsguard. I want to serve with my brother. We have always been together, we will fight together, and I ...

Jaime stopped. He had to lean his back against the column.

\- But you inherit the Evenfall.  
\- No, I am not. - Attentive blue eyes pierced his face with harsh determination. - Because I want to be a knight. Like everyone I love and admire.  
\- It is not necessary to take an oath in order to serve. And it’s not at all necessary to hang out at the Court in order to ...  
\- Hell. You'll even knight Cat if she just asks. But Podrick... no. Not a big stupid Podrick. 

Jaime wiped his face with his palm. He was always sickened by this place. Smells of dirty gutters and the sea, heat and heated stones. With those kings whom he served and whom he hated. And he has not changed a bit. And the kings have not changed a bit. Nothing changes.

\- You can train at the court and participate in tourneys as you like. Ser Podrick Payne will knight you. But, please, don't leave your home. Do not leave us.  
\- And you ask me about this. Of all the children, only me, - Podrick uttered with contempt.  
\- Because you are the eldest son.  
\- And I have to pay for it? And you know, I sometimes don’t even feel like your son anymore…  
\- You will regret of what you said.  
\- True? Have you ever regretted what you did? 

Reasonable question. It cut his throat like a noose. He no longer sufficed air. 

He remembered the cane with the knob in the form of a lion's head. 

Golden lion. A gift from his brother. He scornfully refused to use it, and suddenly at that moment, it seemed to him that there was nothing more necessary in the world. His knee ached. The back was a fire.

\- Please, father, see? I beg you. Let me stay here.  
\- I was not going to prohibit it, Podrick!  
\- You know what I mean.  
\- Will you go against your parents?  
\- I've already done, - Podrick spat. - You both have not noticed?

I swung you as a baby. I held you in my arms while your brother was crying. I taught you to fight. I taught you to be good. Do not you remember? Doesn't all this count anymore? He wanted to scream, but his throat was dry and bitter.

\- Tarth needs you, son, - Jaime made another attempt to appeal to reason. 

Useless.

\- I don't need it. I will not stay there for a minute. Especially knowing that my brother will become a knight in the Guard and put on a white cloak, and for the rest of my life I will count bales of wheat and barrels of lard.

It was so stupid that Jaime could not even object. Gods, gods, what's in these youngsters' heads? Only boiling blood and knightly deeds.

Podrick’s calmness totally disappeared:

\- You want me to heir, but you left Lannisport yourself.  
\- I had to, I ...  
\- Was Lord Tywin standing your way and telling you some nonsense about the heritage?

Jaime was surprised for a moment how exactly his son had guessed the past.

\- I acted very foolishly then, - he murmured without confidence.  
\- Please, talk to mother. Tell her I wish to go my own way.  
\- And do not want to think about us at all? About Tarth?  
\- Fuck you all and your Tarth!  
\- Great, - exploded Jaime. - You do not want to be a landed knight, you do not want to serve your own home, you have no respect to people who gave you life and raised you - be it your way. Do you want cheap feats and stupid adventures? Go get it. You will become a hedge knight. I will let you go. Go at all four sides.

His son’s face reddened.

\- Well, - he said quietly and threateningly. - So it will be.

Jaime turned around and walked away.  
Tyrion met him with a tight smile. A bad apprehension seized Jamie while he sat down in a chair and waited for his brother to speak. Usually talkative and charming, Tyrion frowned over some papers, and Jaime could not stand it further:

\- For all Hells, are you also preparing bad news for me?  
-Well, not me really, - Tyrion confusedly tapped his lips with the tip of his quill.  
\- I thought we were going to talk about Arthur.  
\- Arthur is such an awesome young man. Brilliant knight. His future is as bright as he is. What a handsome, eh? All the girls in this city see him in their dream. Even if he won one less victory. I am terribly, terribly proud of them. Podrick and Arthur. I bet on them and won a decent ... Tyrion sighed. - The beseecher has come to me in the morning. More precisely, he came to Bronn, but the bastard did not find anything smarter than sending him to me. His name is Ralleo Morroth.

\- What is it all about?  
\- He is a merchant. Trades in Pentos ... And happens, in Dorn. In King’s Landing, he is for the first time. Do you want me to call him?

Jaime, who had completely ceased to understand what was happening, just nodded curtly.

Tyrion called his assistant.

\- Bring him here, - he said, trying not to look at anyone. A smile hid in the corners of his eyes, but it was hard to say whether it was kind or confused.

The merchant was a fat man dressed in an embroidered gold jacket, with a mustache dyed with scarlet paint. He stared with such a flaming look that Jaime could be burned through. 

Jaime held his gaze, though.

\- Please, Lord Ralleo. This is Ser Jaime Lannister, a descent man, a famous knight and an owner of Tarth Island.  
\- And your brother, I suppose? And their father? - with fury and strong accent trader spoke.  
\- Why are you here? - Jaime directly asked.

The merchant went up to the table of the Hand, he stepped softly and silently. He lifted small blue suede bag in front of him and shook it. Something rang, rolling.

\- Two days before, your two children came to me, Lannister. Similar to each other, like two drops of water. They told my servant that they had come from Tarth Island and that this island was called Sapphire Island here, - Ralleo began almost intoned. - They told that you own sapphire mines and that you are fabulously rich. They had some sapphires with them.

Jaime opened his mouth, held it like that - and closed. An embarrassed Tyrion twirled some papers in his hands.

\- I've sent a servant to find out, but he only confirmed their words about Sapphire Island. All this seems to be known here. They also told me that your family is rich and famous. My mind has clouded.  
\- From sapphires? - Tyrion put in poisonously.  
\- I don’t know, - the merchant stroked his mustache. - True, the boys have some kind of witchcraft. They first tricked the servant, and then me.  
\- Show it to Ser Jaime, - Tyrion ordered.

The merchant poured a handful of blue stones onto the table. One of the stones fell on the carpet to his feet.

\- For this, I gave them a full purse of gold. They promised to bring more. But as soon as they’ve ran away, something inside me has began to itch.  
\- It should have started earlier, - Tyrion said.  
\- I’ve began to doubt. I have not sent the guard to catch them up, because I was still in a daze. However, my head began to clear up. Two sorcerers just messed me up. These eyes are like wildfire. Speech is sweeter than honey. They are the creatures of darkness, the most vicious, the most disgusting ...  
\- Maybe you will simply finish the story? - Jaime raised his voice slightly.

The merchant looked him over from head to toe. As if mentally calculated the cost of his clothes and came to some of his own conclusion.

\- Finish the story, Lannister? If you please!

He pulled a short Dornish dagger out of its scabbard, the handle was inlaid with elephant bone and stones. The sapphire, the largest, was crushed from the short impact to the sharp blue beads. Tirion flinched, and Jaime involuntarily chuckled.

\- This is the glass, damned glass!

Jaime looked at the Hand.  
He was embarrassed, like Tyrion, but even more, he wanted to somehow protect the children.

\- I'm sure they just wanted to make some pleasantry, - he finally muttered.  
\- Oh yes, - Tyrion shifted in his chair and sighed. - But. Ser Jaime, of course, will return your gold. Every single coin. Everything will be resolved to mutual satisfaction. Eddie, bring them to us.

\- I don’t think it is necessary, - said Jaime.  
\- I think that’s exactly what we should do, - Tyrion stared into his face with such a hard look that Jaime involuntarily bit his tongue.

The servant opened the door to the inner chambers, and the twins appeared before the eyes of Ralleo, Tyrion and the father with a look of utter repentance.

As fake as their sapphires.

\- Give this lord his gold back, - the Hand said with an unexpected softness.

Galladon walked slowly and threw a purse with coins on the table. He furtively glanced at his father, and immediately looked away. 

\- Why did you do that?  
\- Tarth is not called a Sapphire island because of the stones! They call it that because of its blue waters, - Ralleo interfered at random. As if he still hoped that someone would deny him, and Jaime would suddenly pull out a bag of real sapphires. 

\- Well, henceforth you will be more careful, - Tyrion said judiciously. - Children at this age are not the best trading partners. They are unreasonable and capable of evil mischief.  
\- Mischief? - the merchant hissed. - Mis-chief?!

\- Why did you do that? - Jaime repeated, looking at the boys.  
\- We needed gold, - Gerion suddenly declared.  
\- Oh Gods, - Tyrion rolled his eyes.  
\- What for?  
\- We bought the tourney armor for Cat and we're going to buy a starling for Sansa. She always wanted a starling…

In the ensuing pause, it was heard the sea roared below and some girls in the gallery were laughing.

\- Have you spend my gold, little bastards? – Ralleo moved to the twins. He looked impressive, and he also still held a dagger in his hands.

Jaime jumped up and at the same moment found himself between the Pentoshy man and his sons.

\- Easy. You scare them.  
\- And what are they, innocent lambs?  
\- You are a grown man, - Jaime slightly impended over him and looked down from above. - They are children. Get away from them and take it easy.

Ralleo mumbled something about one-handed cripples but stepped back behind Tyrion's chair. 

Tyrion spread his hands:  
\- The treasury, whatever you ask, will not compensate you for anything, my lord. But you can see for yourself that the father of these little scamps is extremely repentant and will pay you the full price for this deception and misunderstanding.

When the children left the chambers, Jaime pulled Gerion to face him.

\- What the hell?! What are you doing?  
\- We had to get the money.  
\- Didn't I give it to you?  
\- It was necessary to get more.  
\- Turns out, you both lied to me and your mother when you said you haven't knew about Cat. Is it what we did teach you? Where did you get this?

\- Sapphires? - Galladon asked with a smug grin. - We've collected fragments of that stained glass, the one that Podrick and Arthur smashed. The glass was still keeping in the barn, so we had…  
\- I had to borrow from Lord Gendry Baratheon some of the local smithies. He helped us.  
\- Yah? And he did not ask why do you need grinding and cutting stones?  
\- We said we want to smith jewelry for the sisters. That we carve beads.  
\- Gods!  
\- Cleverly invented, isn't' it?

Jaime stared down at them, torn between wanting to laugh and shout.

In the end, of course, the merchant got the full amount, and, of course, Brienne was not at all delighted. As Jaime. As everyone.

Rumors were creeping around the city, one more beautiful than another. About the green-eyed two-faced imps of the Lannister who conjure merchants, plunging them into the depths of deception.

About the white-haired giant from Tarth, who won all his tourneys. About the most beautiful young man in the world, who is going to join the Kingsguard. About the most beautiful girl, a proud girl with stunning blue eyes. About a sad girl who talks to the birds and visited the Wall, where she was bewitched. And from now never will she laugh.

And, of course, about the pockmarked girl that her parents had locked in the far rooms of the Red Keep because they were afraid to show her ugliness at the Court.

The good old days of the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth, Brienne-The-Beauty, now, it seemed, were such a hill of beans.

Jaime knocked on the door gently, and the answer was silence. Nobody locked the door outside, Brienne decided so, she always relied on the best in her children (which, of course, led to sapphire fever and other troubles, but, alas).  
However, Catelyn was locked from the inside, and no one from the family has an entry into her chambers. This small bedroom in the short corridor, in the wing, which was given to guests from Tarth, overlooked the sea. Jaime secretly asked the servants to make sure that Catelyn did not run away through the window. She was fearless enough to descend along the steep wall and run away.  
But she just sat in complete solitude and must have indulged herself in the deepest self-pity and was filled with hatred for her relatives.

“Sweetling, please open the door,” he called softly. He did this every night, and now he pushed the door without much hope.

To his surprise, it opened. Sansa was sitting on her sister's bed and looked tear-stained. Сat was standing at the small dresser with a mirror and holding big scissors in her hands. Jaime looked at the carpet at her feet. It was strewn with golden locks. In the evening light, they seemed a bunch of silk threads. Scissors clicked last time. One heavy strand fell. Jaime dumbly stared at the short scraps of hair that now covered his daughter's head, like bird feathers.

Sansa sniffled loudly:  
\- I tried to dissuade her!  
\- It wouldn't work, - Сat said through her teeth.  
\- Your hair was so beautiful, - Jaime entered the room and closed the door. 

He did not want boys or Brienne to break into such a desperate scene.

\- True? - with an unkind laugh, Cat said. - And what is so beautiful about me? Maybe this face?

She touched with the tips of the scissors to her mutilated cheek.

\- I don't want to be beautiful. I'm ugly. Let it be so. I do not care.

Jaime took a step towards her.

\- You are not ugly. Don’t you ever dare to call yourself this word. Give me the scissors.  
\- You have already taken the sword, and the armor, you want to rid me of the fucking scissors now?  
\- Watch your tongue, - he muttered automatically.

\- You make us unhappy, - Catelyn fervently said. - You do not want us to be happy.  
\- It is not true.  
\- She sobs for her northerner because he is not highborn enough for you, father. You forbid Podrick to serve in the Guard, forbid me to be a knight, so tell me, do you truly love us all?

Jaime took another step towards her. Under his boots were soft strands of golden hair.

\- We love you, - he said softly. - Catelyn, I love you, and Sansa, and Joanna, and boys. If I could, I would give anything to make you happy.

She dropped the scissors helplessly. Jaime took another limping step and embraced her awkwardly. She poked her face into his leather jerkin.

Looking over her shaved head at Sansa — a pale face seemed to him woven from moonlight and stars — he stubbornly repeated:

\- Please, listen to me. My love for all of you is so great, I’d never measure it. You are my everything. And I promise I'll never hurt you again.

Catelyn wrapped her arms around him. She flinched slightly.

\- I came to ask for forgiveness. We've offended you. And I and your mother ask for your forgiveness, Cat. And the castle, the island, everything that we have belongs to all of you. And Valirian swords. They are yours. They will always be yours.

\- Father? - she raised her face to him after a long silence. 

A thick, embarrassed flush appeared through the whirlwind of freckles.  
\- Please apologize to mama for me. I said I hated her ...  
\- You said it in warm blood. Yes? Do you hear me? Good. I will tell your mother that you are no longer angry.

He kissed the flower-smelling head.

\- Father? - Sansa timidly fingered the fringe of the bedspread. - Let's never quarrel again?...

Oh, his sweet summer child. How he would want her wishes to come true.

In the evening Brienne talked to the girls, and there were even more hugs, confessions, and tears, and when she returned to the dark bedroom, Jaime was staring at the shadows in the high bed-curtains.  
Brienne took off the robe and, remaining in her white gown, so thin that he could see her adorable nipples through (not that he had any objections), lay down next to him. Her long fingers touched his cheek, ran his temple.

\- Have you been crying? - of course, she has, and he was not surprised.

\- Rarely they manage to bring their mother to tears, - she said with a guilty smile. - Today it happened. Are you all right, Jaime?  
\- Me? Of course. Apart from the fact that you’ve cried, Podrick is going to become a hedge knight, Cat has cut her hair fully, the twins have traded fake sapphires, Sansa constantly mourns her first northern love, Arthur ...

She covered his lips with her tender palm and laughed softly.

\- Stop. Exhale. The journey was not easy, but soon we return to our home.

Home. Never has any place tied him so tightly. But is it any wonder? He was bound by eight tight knots, which were the strongest in the world.

\- I love you so, so much, - Brienne said suddenly.

He nodded, closing his eyes.

\- I love you more than my life, wench.  
\- Do not call me that.  
\- I apologize, - he kissed her palm. – Brienne. Forgive us all. We cause so much trouble.  
\- I'll manage somehow.  
\- And for that, we should thank you day after day.  
\- You should indeed, - she laughed.

Jaime felt her long and soft arms, exactly the same as that of the young lady knight he had once known, wrapped around his waist.

In the cool night of the Red Keep, it was already smelling of autumn storms. After the Long Night, a cycle of springs and winters reigned in the world, given by nature, not magic. Summer was replaced by rains, winter - by flowering.

\- We will be fine. You will see. Everything will be fine, Jaime.


	6. Blackbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how the world is built. This is how families are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know that in tv show they never mentioned Connington's betrothal (and the Conningtones in general) and the aftermath, i.e. Golden Slap, but I've decided to use this story in my fic. Because I want to... and because I like this part in the books so, so, so much.  
> I only hope that you, people, still like my fic, and I (one more time) ask your forgiveness for being too slow with chapter updates, and for my mistakes.  
> Thank you!

At the feast for the return of the family, a roasted lamb was served with herbs, and in the great hall of the castle, it smelled of thyme and sage. Thick, bitter and homely smell. In the fireplace, logs cracked merrily, and from the outside galleries, a wind pulled fresh and moist cool.

\- Father, - Joanna suddenly said, - mother. I would like to…  
Shyness appeared in her voice, but her face shone from inside with a strange light. A tender smile touched her lips.

\- I would like ... I can bring him to you? Here? You should get to know him better, I thought that...  
\- Him? Who are you talking about?  
\- His name is Ronnel Connington, he is the son of Ser Ronnet Connington, and he is very...

Jaime, of course, was already expecting everything, but nearly dropped his own glass.

\- A very educated young man, - Joanna finished in a fallen voice, after a pause, during which the eyes of all seven looked at her with amazement and anxiety.

\- Didn't Ronnet perish with the others when the Mother of Dragons attacked King’s Landing? - finally, Brienne asked.  
\- So it was. Ronnel was legalized because otherwise, the name would vanish. So King Bran granted him the title of heir. Back then he was a little baby. He now owns Griffin's Roost.  
\- Red Ronnet had some other bastards, - remarked Jaime. - They did not take the title?  
\- His older brother was killed by the Golden Company. They tried to take the Roost before the War of the Two Queens. So you both knew his family? You, father? And even mama? He never mentioned that.  
\- He must not have wanted to spoil the impression, - Jaime took a long sip of wine.

He and Brienne had to pretend that they were just pleasantly surprised. The rest of the children looked quite excited about what was happening. Given the sly temper of the twins, it was easy to assume that these two had known everything for a long time.

However, as soon as the bedroom doors closed behind him, Jaime burst into a wave of sheer anger.

\- Of all the young men in the whole world, she chose the bastard of this filthy skunk Ronnet! I can not believe it. To Hell those youngster’s dance balls and tourneys. I always had this terrible anxiety about her future, always. See? It was not for nothing, eh?

Brienne sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie the laces of her leather tunic.

She looked as if the conversation was embarrassing and hard for her. No wonder thought Jaime.  
My poor girl.

\- If he is as crap as his father, he could have set up a meeting with Joanna. The Conningtones, as I far as I know, love to woo to Tarth ...

He faltered when he saw that her face was paler than milk. She sat without raising her eyes. Her blond hair was like white gold in the light of candles - they fell on the shoulders, dropped in fright, wave after wave. She seemed to Jaime defenseless and terribly confused.

\- Sorry. I was not going to say this.

\- You and Ronnet had a hassle, - she said softly after a pause. - But there is no reason to hate his son. He was a little boy then and he is not responsible for who his father was ...  
\- And you, of course, forgave this scum?  
\- And had I something to forgive? He was a young boy. He said what he thinks, and right in my face.  
\- You just amaze me.  
\- Sit down, - she pointed to the bed next to her. - Let's not be in a hurry. Joanna understands people pretty well. She would never accept a deceiver or a scoundrel.

Jaime sat down beside her.  
Brienne got up and began to unbutton his jacket. So they did often. He would have done fine himself, but she liked to help him, and he ... he just liked her.

Jaime has never worn a metal hand again for more than twenty years. His hand remained a stump. At first, he even liked to punish himself, but over the time he just got used to it and at some point realized how heavy and inconvenient was his golden palm. Well… There were also some benefits from the golden hand, of course.

But, freed from it, he learned everything anew and at the third time in his life - to fight, to hold the reins and to take off his clothes.

\- I personally do not want to see in my house a relative of a man who called you a ‘sow in silks’.

\- Did he say that? - Brienne chuckled. Her breath smelled of thyme and heated wine. - The truth was his. Father, I remember, back then has dressed me in very expensive silk.

She smiled at her memory. Her smile showed sadness, but also some kind of calm, of those that only come with age.

\- Brienne, forgive me for even repeating his words. I love you for not hating people. Your generosity can be sold all over the world, and we would get rich with it ... and still, we would not sell out. But, sweetling, believe me, I am very, very glad that Ronnet Connington is dead. 

\- Maybe in my heart, I'm still angry. Old wounds do not always heal completely. Yes, and the scars can ache, you do know this. But now this is not about Ronnet, he is not here anymore.  
\- I do not care. His whole family deserved to be wiped off the face of the earth. I do not understand how this woman, his mistress, had the audacity to appear before the King and ask for a title for her whelp.

\- After the war, much has changed. Everything has changed ... You too. - she said reasonably.

She helped him to pull off his jacket. She knelt down in front of Jaime and laid her head on his lap.

\- But not my hatred for such a bastard.  
\- Joanna doesn't know a thing about this. Most likely, the boy himself does not know. Are you going to tell your daughter how, long years ago, a stupid young man has unsuccessfully wooed your wife?  
\- Why not, - said Jaime obstinately. - He didn’t woo, in fact, he insulted you, he humiliated you, and he never felt sorry for that. And then, being a grown man, a knight, he stained his honor with dirty words he dared to say behind your back…

\- But you did not listen to these words.

Jaime grinned, absently looking ahead. His palm lay on her warm neck and he liked to feel under his calloused fingers the tenderness of the skin and the beat of the little vein.

\- True. I did not.

Brienne, a pure soul, has never known how satisfyingly it was for him to weigh out a heavy slap with a golden hand.  
She generally knew almost nothing about this, perhaps for the better. She must have imagined that Jaime only laughed off or shouted irritably in reply to the dirty insults.

He back then had been fighting at the Reach and very much hoped that, after his punishment, Ronnet would be burned with dragon fire. The redhead was lucky, however only for a short time, and the dragon caught up with him only in the capital.

A week later, he was standing in front of Brienne in a new, silver-stitched jacket, and she straightened his neckcloth.

\- Are you worried?  
\- How do I look like?  
\- The question is, - a quick smile touched her lips, - what do you want to look like.  
\- I want to look intimidating, - he did not smile at her.

She sighed and smoothed the fabric on his shoulders for the last time.

\- I'm worried too, - she said.

They tried to furnish the meeting with the utmost solemnity. The ship arrived far in the afternoon, and while the servants were warming the water for guest’s bath, and the bedroom was being prepared, Jaime and Brienne gave final orders.  
Many candles were lit in the large hall. It was getting dark early now, and cold rain poured outside the windows. Wine and snacks were placed on the table, and the table stood on the podium, but the valets were ordered to wait for the sign to serve. Two chairs, heavy, old and carved chairs, with high throne backs, stood next to each other. The guest would have to stand in front of this little sign of greatness and speak, looking upwards. 

Jaime loved it beforehand.

Ronnel did not inherit his father's red hair. Rather, you could call it a chestnut brown or auburn. He was not particularly tall, and his whole figure, thin, dressed into an elegant embroidered with red and white griffins camisole, seemed especially small against the impressive size of Tarth's furniture. A sword dangled at the guest’s belt. 

He was visibly worried and because of that Jaime was also pleased.

But most of all in this first meeting, Ronnel’s face surprised him. Of course, he was not ugly, but nobody would call him handsome. He looked very young, and if it were not for the fact of his birth date, Jaime would not have given him more than eighteen. His face was boyish, open, freckled and pale pink, washed by the winds and rains of his fatherland. Big dark-gray eyes stared with bright curiosity. He had a slightly pointed nose and rounded cheeks. Thin lips were cut by several subtle scars. 

What their Joanna, surely the first beauty of the Seven Kingdoms, has found at this boy?

\- Greetings, my lady. Greetings, my lord. I am happy that you agreed to accept me.  
\- At this time, traveling by sea is not safe. - Brienne said, - How was the passage?  
\- Glory to all the gods, quite well. The path from the Roost to Tarth is not so dangerous, though...  
\- This place is called the Shipwreck Bay not for nothing, - Jaime said gloomily. - You must have wanted very much to get here, Lord Connington.

The boy tried to smile, but under the glance of Jaime’s eyes, the smile disappeared.

\- I hope it was all worth it, - Jaime finished in an executioner's tone.

Brienne said without turning her head:

\- My husband and I are happy to see you at Evenfall Hall. We know what brought you here, and we expect only a mutual understanding from you. Do you understand why you’ve come here, Lord Connington?

\- I ... I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand. I offer a betrothal and I promise that ...

\- How did you both even meet? - Jaime interrupted him, and it turned out even rougher than he expected.

Ronnel looked at Brienne as if he was looking for support, but, of course, did not find any.

After a pause, shifting from foot to foot, he said:

\- I have met your daughter ... Lady Joanna. At the dancing ball in honor of the tournament winners.  
\- In honor of our son Podrick.  
\- Yes, Ser. I was very happy to meet him. He is an amazing, unsurpassed fighter and a real knight.  
\- No one has yet knighted him, - Brienne said.  
\- Oh. Is that so?  
\- Are people closer to the capitals do not know all the smallest details about other people's families? - asked Jaime with a smirk. - And the Lannisters from Tarth, it's such a tasty morsel for the gossips.

\- We do not consider ourselves as capital dwellers. We are the Storm Land. I now rarely visit the King's Landing, and in the Red Keep, I was for the second time in my whole life ...

\- It is strange. Your father felt great in the capital ... let's say, at least for the time. And at the service for Lannisters.  
\- He left home for ... for duty, I suppose, - Ronnel muttered.  
\- Of course, you do know also what did he do in his war campaigns? Initially, he swore his vows to King Renly, then to the Lannisters. Interesting adventures, right?

The young man silently looked Jaime in the face. At least he had the courage not to look away.

\- I did not know my father. I was not born in a married union. And he died when I barely started walking. I cannot judge him or extol him, my lord.  
\- But sure you would like to know more about him?  
\- I was told about some details.  
\- What exactly?

Ronnel glanced at Jaime, then at Brienne, totally confused.

\- That... he was strong. Well fought. And he died in the flame of a dragon.  
\- Once your father has visited this house. Probably standing here on this very spot.  
\- I didn't know that.  
\- Perhaps, people did not want to tell you everything. He was wooing Lady Brienne.

Brienne looked at him warningly. Jaime shrugged.

\- But this is our past. Let's hope you will make a better impression, Lord Connington.

\- My lady, I didn't think that ...  
Ronnel closed his mouth and stood there for a few seconds, staring at the floor in front of him. Then he readily and fearlessly raised his eyes to Brienne:

\- If my father hurt your home, your loved ones, or you, I offer you my deepest apologies from myself and from my house. It was unworthy and wrong. I regret it had happened.

And this boy is not a fool, Jaime thought with a pang of sympathy.  
Brienne squeezed her lips tight. A light blush appeared on her cheeks. 

\- Are you sure your father would approve of these regrets? - Jaime asked with a smirk.  
\- I am sure that now I am the one who’s responsible. Besides me, no Conningtones are left, at least in this part of the world. We must prove ourselves respected, not despised and hated.

Brienne brought a glass of water to her lips. After a pause, she said:

\- My lord, sadly we know nothing about you. It was a hard task, I suppose, to take control of your lands at a young age?  
\- I did not want to rule, being young and inexperienced. I had to study.  
\- And who had ruled all this time for you?

Embarrassed, he lowered his eyelashes.

\- People whom I trust now.  
\- Namely?  
\- Maester and the Master-At-Arms.

After a minute of silence Ronnel reluctantly muttered:  
\- Our Master is not of noble origin. His name will not tell you anything. He was ... a hedge knight, I think. Or something like this.  
\- "Something like this"?  
\- His name is Big Ape.

Jaime and Brienne looked at each other.  
While Jaime drank his wine, Brienne’s face brightened from the guess.

\- Do I understand correctly that he is from the Unsullied?  
\- He saved me at the war, - Ronnel said. He saved also my mother. He accompanied us from the King's Landing back to the castle, and then ... stayed. And his skills are superb. He has long forgotten his real name. I think I will never know it.

\- Is he still devoted to you and your house? - Brienne asked gently, slightly tilting her head. – Why?  
\- After mother's death he wanted to leave, and also because all his people long ago went East, only a few like him remained ... but I persuaded him to stay. And to help me. I trust him in everything. He is a good man. He is a good warrior and the best teacher and friend… The color of his skin does not change anything.

\- Strange things are happening today, - Jaime said without a smile. - A lord brought up by a savage.

\- I do not consider them savages, Ser Jaime, - Ronnel suddenly declared with unprecedented determination. - And I do not advise anyone to think so.

Yes, his father's blood in him definitely manifested. 

It was possible to call Ronnet a fool and a scum, but he was surely not a coward. And he, as his son, never knew how to hold his tongue ...

Brienne nodded. Diplomatically and almost affectionately, she said, as if completing the raised topic:  
\- We are all savages to someone, and strangers to someone, Lord Connington. What would you say about us? Why did you choose Joanna from Tarth? And why did she choose you?

Ronnel suddenly wiped his opened palms on his camisole — in such a boyish gesture that Jaime barely suppressed a chuckle.

\- I did not dare to hope, my lady, that ... that such a girl would pay any attention to me. I am unsightly, it can be seen by everyone. Not too courteous, because I was brought up, as you named him, by the Unsullied, and I ...  
\- And you are modest, - Jaime put in, but Brienne just glared at him intensively.

\- I… Yes, and I am humble, my lord. Our house is not wealthy, although it owns vast lands ... but all this is rocks, thick dark forests, and sea sand. The soil is full of salt. Peasants grow only a turnip and bitter herbs for the tinctures. Once we were both noble and rich, but last decades we have always chosen the wrong side. In my castle the winter is cold and the wind comes through all the cracks. But I am trying very hard, I am learning everything and I wish only to find those who… And to be honest, I believe that ... Griffins will be back. After all, the dragons have returned to this world.

\- You are meaning it, of course, in a symbolic sense, - Jaime said after a bewildered pause.

\- I was referring to the House Connington, Ser Jaime, - young man blushed and even slouched in embarrassment. - Excuse me. I am deprived of the gift of eloquence. 

\- Not a big flaw, - Brienne said even more softly. Her kindness began to seriously bother Jaime. After all, he had not even begun a real interrogation with true tortures. - You reason pretty sensibly.

\- In general, my lady, speaking frankly, I had nothing to offer your daughter ... And I would not dare ...

 

\- And yet you came here. And you dared.  
Ronnel stared at Jaime as if he had just hit him.

-I couldn’t have done otherwise, - he muttered faintly.

 

After dinner, it became clear that Joanna was in love with young Connington, and Jaime had to admit this honestly to himself. They looked at each other almost constantly, and at every opportunity, they tried to hold hands or to smile furtively.

\- What do you think? - Jaime asked Brienne. They went down to the courtyard. It was dark, the moon took refuge behind the clouds, and drizzled light rain. Brienne was still in her fine dress, and Jaime threw his jacket over her shoulders, and walked beside, leaning on his lion cane.

\- He seemed to be a decent boy.  
\- And that's all?  
\- What else do you want?  
\- He is poor, he is a bastard, albeit legitimized, and, due to his youth and inexperience, he is not much appreciated at Court. Yes, and no prospects, Conningtones will never again come out of disgrace. And that means that they have no loyal vassals. They will not be given more land, no one wants to borrow the money. Yes, and this Unsullied near a boy… Neighboring lords must despise the griffin with all their hearts. Do you want my girl got into that sort of family?  
\- She should decide it.  
\- Well, she should not.  
\- It’s up to her, - Brienne repeated with pressure. - And please don't be such a Lannister.

Jaime wanted to be offended, but her words was true. He looked now like Tywin, and Tywin would never have given his child into the hands of a commoner and poorly-off family. Only if for a punishment ...

\- He reads a lot, - Brienne said. - After that, I suspect, Joanna fell in love with him. He is also trying to fix his castle and to manage his people correctly and fairly. He just needs a mentor.  
\- He already has one.  
\- This is different. You could help him.  
\- And I already have sons. Thank you, I have to refuse.  
\- Gods, - she said with slight disgust. - Are you really so hostile? To your own daughter? You love her.  
\- I wish her a better future.  
\- Ah, this is so stupid.  
\- Convince me. I swear I will change my mind if you could.  
\- Stubborn old man, - she snorted.  
\- Stubborn wench, - he said.

She suddenly stopped and angrily turned to him. He kissed her cool neck. The light from the windows of the castle lined the yard with golden spots. Flames of torches cracked from wet drops.

\- Gods, help me. You drive me crazy, - he whispered.  
\- Me?  
\- You're the most.

Desire stirred in him. He always wanted her, in any poses and for any reason, there was some magic in this that he could not fully explain to himself. There was something strangely alluring about her, and the point was not that her skin was soft, and her hair smelled so nice and gentle, and her lips were always supple and sweet. She seemed to be bewitching him, surrounded him by an invisible cloak, and his heart was always burning, and his loins were always on the alert.  
It would be worth for him to understand everything back then and there, in the baths of Harrenhall. 

However, understanding would hardly have alleviated his fate. Too many mistakes and troubles lay ahead.  
He could not have avoided any of this. Even if a hundred times he would have lived all over and over again ...

\- Jaime, - Brienne said sternly, but there was a smile in her eyes. - We didn’t go out to give up to a youthful passion. We need to seriously talk. In addition, children can see us.

\- Everyone is already going to bed ...

She took his hand and squeezed it in her long and strong fingers.

\- Listen to me. Give them a chance. As once fate gave a chance to you and me.

He protested weakly:  
\- Just do not mention us. What an example! I have dishonored you.  
\- I didn't mind, - she said seriously. - I loved you. And you loved me. Our future was even more pitiable, but together, we managed to overcome everything. This is how the world is built. This is how families are made.

Her confidence and honesty beat him right in the heart.  
And he has always loved her, it's true.  
\- The years have softened you, - he said when they returned to the castle. Brienne climbed the steps ahead of him, and looked around, surprised.  
\- I’ve always spoiled them, - continued Jaime with a smirk. - And now look at you. You allowed Cat to dye her hair, and, though you persuaded Podrick to stay, you also allowed him this terrible tattoo. And now you practically allowed Joanna to marry Connington.  
\- We allowed it together.  
\- Who even asked me, - he grumbled.

Catelyn actually once returned from the harbors with her hair painted in a bright blue color. 

Turned out, she befriended with a girl from the Iron Islands. While the ships were on the quay, Cat and her new friend rushed all day on the decks and learned to fight with all kinds of weapons that they could get. It turned out also and very soon that the mother of the girl, although did not come to Tarth personally, was well known to both parents.

Her name was Yara Greyjoy, and she reigned on the islands while her daughter wandered around Westeros in the company of seamen. She named her first daughter Theona, in honor of the deceased brother.  
Theona was tall and strong, from her mother she got an oval, grumpy face, and she cut her black hair in a masculine manner. Somewhere in the Free Cities, she learned to dye her hair with colored dust, and soon practiced on the short golden strands of Catelyn. Theona was direct and decisive, brave and loyal, and Jaime, although he doubted his own decision, and hated even the name of Greyjoy, still let his daughter be as she wished.

Following Catelyn, Podrick took up improving the appearance. He returned along with a family to Tarth, although not without the persuasion of his mother, and Jaime never knew what Brienna told her son, how she was able to convince him to stay for another year. After that, Podrick was supposed to go to the Guard and serve to obtain the knighthood. 

However, he tasted the fruits of disobedience, and therefore all parental decrees were no longer needed. One day he returned from the ship of the Tyroshy with a shoulder wrapped in rags, and under the bandage, to the amazed and distressed views of the parents appeared a black figure of a roaring lion. A star and a crescent looked down at the animal. 

An excellent sigil, if you think about it, Jaime decided to himself. Out loud, he broke out in such a tirade, from which the ears were hurt for a long time.

Their children grew up too fast. Too spoiled and accustomed to a peaceful life on the island to be afraid of strangers. And the strangers coveted them. People liked the children of Tarth, Jaime just physically felt this, the feeling of kindness, honesty, and openness, to which they were so drawn.  
Theona, Ans, Ronell Connington. They all came to Tarth or into their lives to take his children from him, and there was nothing to be done.

And was it worth it?  
Only the twins and Sansa were still with him, and he was desperately clinging to the illusion that these three were not yet escaping.

However, this illusion was destined to be broken soon.

On the day when the engagement was finally announced, the dates of the weddings were appointed — the first with a septon, on Tarth and the second with guests from all Kingdoms in the Griffon Roost— a messenger arrived. He was wearing an Ibbenese warm jacket, a strange cap made of leather seals, and his dark little eyes were looking around with curiosity. In his hands, he carried a box wrapped with a woolen scarf.

The maid called Podrick. The messenger introduced himself with an intricate name and pointed down toward the harbors. He arrived with the ship, whose crew consisted of Ibbenese and Lorathy, and they went to Dorn to give a large load of velvet, jasper and carved bone. In White Harbor, he said, the boy of Tormund Giantsbane gave him a gift for a Tarth girl. He paid generously. In addition, he ordered to give her this. He held a little scrolled letter in his hand. 

Podrick nodded at the box, and the messenger eagerly threw off the scarf. In the cage, a small blackbird sat. Its neck was in a neat white necklace. The bird looked at the castle carefully and seriously.

Podrick, perhaps, would not have taken such a strange gift, but Sansa already jumped into the courtyard and behind her both the twins and Cat. Jaime, who had been informed of the alarm, got out of the stables, Brienne came running from the pantry. Joanna and several of her maids came, burning with curiosity. 

Sansa opened the cage. The bird, without any trace of fear, jumped into her hand and remained sitting.

\- This is a real blackbird. Oh, how adorable! Look, what a pretty! But how could he ...  
\- These birds are rarely found there in the North, my lady, - said the messenger with a strong accent. - I don’t know where Ans Giantsbane has got it. I fed it the best grain. But in the cage, it was kind of bored ... It loves to fly. 

Sansa had been circling the yard for a long time, and the bird was jumping from one her shoulder to another. She almost sang with joy and happiness.

\- He remembers me! He remembers me! He remembers!...

From her happy laughter, Jaime had the nastiest foreboding.

She unfolded the note and reread it for the tenth time.  
Years later, Jaime found out what was written there.

“I will never forget you, Lady Sansa. Blackbird will love you as much as I love you. If you ever need anything, just tell him to fly to Ans, I will know, and I will come."


	7. Burning sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Have you seen the sea burn?  
> \- No. But something worse ...

The days were troublesome, the evenings were fussy, and even at night, the castle did not sleep, preparing for the holiday. There were maidservants running around and doors slamming, now and then crows flew through the windows of the Maester room with congratulations and instructions from various relatives, friends, and just those who wanted to be invited. Dresses had been sewed and cloaks were embroidered, boots and shoes were stitched. The cook complained about the lack of this and that and day by day he fell into ever greater rage, inventing new menus and perfecting already quite decent dishes. From the ships to the castle bales of spices and fruits, wine and beer barrels were dragged every hour.

And in the midst of this bustle, like two rocks, one - leaning on a cane, the second - impossibly tall and calm, like a stone, stood two older Lannisters. 

Some melancholic calmness seized Jaime when he finally accepted his daughter's departure. He should have kept her from getting married, he thought cowardly, in moments when the counting of coins and wine barrels were starting to drive him crazy. However, what would he have become in her eyes?   
A tyrant, an eternal figure of an evil father. Does he not know how his sister never forgave their father. And even though she did not put her hand to his death, however ... there was a lot of anger in her heart, and this bitterness corrupted everything she touched. She poisoned him too.

Finally, on a clear and cold winter day, two ships arrived from White Harbor. Jaime personally went down to the pier. Sansa Stark, then the northern soldiers. Gilly and Sam. And then Tomund's red head appeared, and then John Snow and the boy. Over the past months, he began to look quite adult. Jaime suddenly realized who had sewed him that finely decorated shirt. The northern queen, apparently, loved this boy. She dressed him (who else could) in the most elegant coat and a cloak embroidered with wolves heads and cedar branches. Ans looked like a real prince.

A thin figure darted past, and Sansa, reaching the guest, who had barely left the ramp, stopped dead.   
The birds flying behind sank on their shoulders: a white starling, whom Jaime had recently bought for her — on Sansa’s shoulder and the blackbird — her favorite — on Ans’s shoulder. They remained standing in the midst of the crowd, not daring to hold hands or say a word while the fuss reigned around, and the guests unloaded their chests.

Jaime didn't like it all that much. But to spoil the holiday, and the arrival of the northern guests, oh, it would be ridiculous. Once again he pretended to be blind and hastily turned away.

Let everything go as it goes. 

Before the wedding, there were only two days left. The castle was overwhelmed with feverish panic. Fire in fireplaces and stoves did not fade, shouts and orders did not cease, knives were knocked and wine poured, because after the northern guests, along with freshly knighted Ser Arthur Lannister, Uncle Tirion appeared in the castle, and he was very determined.

He was also going to attend the second wedding, in the Griffon Roost, because, tell me, when the Imp refused to have fun in the company of his beloved people. So he said to Jaime, and then with the most decisive look, he went to the cellars to personally inspect the wine list prepared for the wedding.

On the morning of the wedding day, Jaime awoke at dawn and saw a wall of white mist approaching from the sea. Mist leaked through the windows, filling the air with the smell of freshness and salt. Brienne was asleep, tired of preparations, covered with a thick blanket. She curled up and from under the blanket was visible only her nose, and a strand of blond hair. Jaime wanted to kiss the freckles on the tip of her nose, but he did not want to wake her. He turned to the other side of the bed, and his gaze rested on a pale face with glowing green eyes. They seemed huge and empty.

The thin mouth made a small letter "O". They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then Jaime, out of habit, turned his gaze to the boy’s left hand. He noticed a crooked and short little finger, and called out:  
\- Gerion? What are you doing here?

The boy took a step forward and stood shyly at the threshold of the bedroom. It was strange to see him alone. Something was wrong. Jaime stood on his elbow.

\- What happened?

White shirt and short breeches, bare feet on the cold floor. Jaime was suddenly scared. He did not understand why.

\- Gerion!

The boy blinked, and Jaime saw that a tear rolled down his pale cheek.

\- The sea is burning, - he said in a monotonous voice.  
\- What?!  
\- I dreamed that the sea was burning, father.  
\- Did you have a bad dream?

For many years, none of their children have run to parent's bedroom, frightened by nightmares. And, to tell the truth, even being in the most sensitive age, the children of Tarth did not suffer nightmarish dreams. Maybe, a couple of times a year, and just some nonsense inspired by nannies tales.

\- The sea?  
\- It burned to the horizon.  
\- And that's all?

Jaime threw back the blanket and sat down. Bare feet touched cool stones, and the dream finally fell off him.

\- Come here.

Gerion obeyed. He must have trembled at this misty coolness in the big rooms.  
Jaime stroked his rough hair.  
\- It's just a dream. You are no longer a toddler. Do not be afraid. You are brave, I know. Where is your brother?  
\- He's sleeping.  
\- You should do the same. Get some sleep. Today will be a long day.  
\- I've never seen dreams, - the boy said slowly. - I was very scared when I realized that I was seeing this in a dream, but it was as if I ... saw it, for real.  
\- I had many dreams, - Jaime admitted with a smile. - Something, maybe, I would not like to see. But they all remained where they belong. Here.

He touched his temple.

\- And then these dreams were completely forgotten.  
\- Have you seen the sea burn?  
\- No. But something worse ...  
\- Septa Marona believes that we should have an explanation. Like... I ate something sweet or salty and saw a nightmare.  
\- Well, there... generally speaking, there is a good reason.

Jaime gently hugged his son, once again amazed at how thin he was. The twins had the shape of Tywin – all of the bones, all of the sinews, and flexible, stubborn energy.

\- Now go. Let's not disturb your mother. She is very tired. 

He himself did not go to bed anymore. Trying not to wake his wife, he got dressed and went out to the gallery, where the air was entangled in a foggy net. His warm cloak kept the warm inside, but his face was tingling slightly from the cold touches. The sea lay somewhere there, behind a white veil, and only the quiet roar of the surf could be heard.

Ans sat on the railing, bravely hanging his legs down, and they were drowned in mist, like in milk. He fed the birds out his hand. Starling, Blackbird, and even a little naughty tit - the entire family of Sansa was bustling around his narrow palm. Someone's raven even taken part.

“You would have been more careful here,” Jaime moved closer. “Our castle is high.”  
Ans turned and looked at him with his dark, impenetrable eyes.

\- I like it, my lord. I love to climb much higher.

The memory pricked him, but Jaime hurriedly fought it off.

\- Do you like birds?  
\- I like talking to them.  
\- Sansa considers it a great advantage.

Ans shyly turned away.

\- Are you always so talkative with people?

The boy slightly bowed his head.

\- My father thinks I'm a talker though, - he said, and Jaime heard a smile in his voice.

Well, at least Ans is not afraid of him.

\- Tormund?  
\- Snow.  
\- Snow is your father?  
\- I've decided so, - Anse muttered. - Although I know the truth. Giantsbane has no sons, so he appointed me as his heir. But I think Snow is my father.  
\- You love him?  
\- With all my heart, - the boy said simply.

Jaime was strangely pleased.

\- And Lady Stark? She seems to have accepted you.  
\- I love her too, but I know what they say, - Ans said suddenly, angrily. - That I am her secret son, that Snow laid with her, and because of this, she gave birth to me. But this is not true. I know who my mother was. I've seen her grave. And my real father was from Ibben.

\- People don't have to be close by blood, - Jaime said, struck by his northern sincerity, - to love each other. I believe that she is not your own relative, just like Snow, like Giantsbane. But you are a family. In a sense, you are all a family, all free folk, and there, in the north, you can’t live without this.

\- And here in the south? - Ans asked, not looking at Jaime. – Can you live without this?

\- So you are sure that your father was an Ibbenese.  
\- They all think so. Only the names of the father are different, - Anse laughed shortly. – I’ve been on Ibben five times. I like these people, they accept me as their own, I’ve learned their language, but I could never get along with them and live there. Other habits. Other houses. Other smells. Everything is different ...  
\- This is very far.  
\- And very foreign. Many of these people now, like me, have chosen other countries and cities. Many of them sail, hire on foreign ships, just to get away from home.

\- Why?

\- Ibben has changed, they say. The First Consul of Shadows changes customs, and many don't like it. He removed the consulate and now rules alone. He brought his wife from Lorath, seven years ago, or so ... This woman is powerful, cruel and greedy. People raised a riot, and all the instigators were exterminated in the most terrible ways. So that the people from Port Ibben did not raise more riots, they brought mercenaries, rabble from all over the world, even hated Dothraki. All of them, contrary to the customs and laws, were let into the inner Ibben, and there they settled as at their own home. The consul’s pantries, they say, are full of gold and amber... but hungry people in harsh winters eat dogs and spruce needles.

\- I for sure would not want to live in such a place, - Jaime laughed.

He liked the thoroughness with which Anse explained everything. In addition, there was a lot of openness in him, the openness of a man who grew up in absolute truth and was not afraid to say too much.  
\- Ah, there you are, - Tyrion emerged from the mist, scaring the birds that nestled comfortably on Ans’s shoulder. - And you're here, a young northerner. What need has raised you both so early?

He carried a bottle of wine, a glass and a plate filled with pieces of bread and fruit. Putting all that on the table, he turned to Jaime.

\- Don't you want to have breakfast in the company of the only sensible bachelor of the Seven Kingdoms?

Ans ran away somewhere, and Jaime was left with his brother face to face.

\- Why is the only one? It's full of broken hearts, - he said. - Tormund, Snow, even little Ans.  
\- And he looks good, right? I always thought of Ibbenese as ugly people. But they are strong, it is true. The boy must have got this beauty from his mother.  
\- Do you know that people consider him the illegitimate son of Sansa Stark and Jon Snow?

Tyrion snorted and dropped the figs, not bringing it to his mouth.

\- Gods. Pour me some wine. 

Jaime poured wine into his tall glass.

\- It’s complete nonsense, of course, - Tyrion said. - Fortunately, Lady Stark pays no attention.  
\- But they say that Ibbenese cannot have healthy offspring with other nations.  
\- Legends, - Tyrion assured him, taking a sip of his wine. - The same kind as about wildling's women. You know, people in the north thought they had six tits, like a pig? Allegedly, they hide them under these fur cloaks?  
\- Fine, - said Jaime venomously.  
\- I did not check it myself, but ask at least our dearest Snow, he will assure you that they have exactly two tits. And any wildling girl, if she spreads her legs, there will be the same as any southerner.  
\- Over the years, your curiosity has subsided, - Jaime said.  
\- Yes, I came to some conclusions. There is nothing there, between their legs, to search, probably only wasted time, - Tyrion grumbled, and it was not clear whether he was joking or speaking seriously. Most likely, both.

\- As for Ibben, I think they themselves composed these legends in order to protect people from any unions with other nations. Women are warned against contact with Dothraki, who previously drove them into slavery, and men are forbidden to walk outside so that they do not stay where they sailed. They love to isolate themselves, to protect themselves from the world. Island people, what can I say. As if it helps ...

Tyrion chewed and stared into the misty streaks.

\- Could we ever dream that we will see the marriage of your second daughter?

Jaime said nothing.

\- You remember her, but I don't. So tell me. Does she really look like our mother? - Tyrion asked quietly.

\- A little. Not at all ... And exactly like her, all at once.

Tyrion understood his answer perfectly. He shifted on a cold bench and suddenly spoke quietly:

\- It was brought by a raven before I left Red Keep ... - He pushed a scroll to Jaime. - I did not want to tell you.

Jaime unfolded.

“Lady Delaney requests to convey congratulations to the daughter of Tarth, as well as to her eminent father. It seems that the Gods gave him the happy fate of becoming a grandfather. Let them keep his whole family. ”

The handwriting was senile and uneven. As of the writing of a blind person. Letters somewhere ran over each other or stuck together.

Jaime pressed the note with his good hand and saw that his fingers were trembling.

\- Lady Delaney is really so happy for you, - Tyrion said in a boring voice. - That she decided to congratulate.  
\- She wrote from dictation, - Jaime said slowly.  
\- Of course. The old woman would never have thought of sending greetings. I told her not to stick out, and she obeyed. Now she looked up.  
\- What did you hear about her?  
\- Believe it or not. I handed her money, never in return received anything but short thanks in words.  
\- Is it possible to wait for the bad?  
\- Here? With you? On an island filled with trained soldiers and knights? No, I will not put a pitiful coin on the fact that these are serious threats. Rather, how to say ... poisonous spray.  
\- How have these rumors reached Tyrosh?  
\- It is not far from here, - said Tyrion dryly. - Besides, you disobeyed and sent your own ship for silk and spices, and now all the Free Cities know that the famous Kingslayer has a wedding.  
\- I could not hire intermediaries and I hurried. These were the fabrics for her dress.  
\- That's the point, brother. You hurried and made a mistake. And Lady Delaney may not forgive mistakes. However, I am sure that this note is just empty words.  
\- It is difficult to judge without whisperers.  
\- Well, I hire someone for delicate things. I know for sure that everything is calm in Tyrosh.

Jaime left his brother to drink wine and returned to the rooms. He threw the note into the fire.

Soon the castle began to wake up, and people began to rustle. Immediately after breakfast, the musicians began to rehearse, and fragments of mist crawled out into the courtyards, smells of smoked meat, and ringing trills. In the harbors somebody blew the horn, pointing the ships to the path in the fog. The dogs barked, the girls sang, gathering the bride behind closed doors, the children were laughing somewhere. The world has become the same, and the ominous images of the morning — the burning sea and the note dictated to the old woman — dissolved in the bustle and anticipation of the holiday.

He remembered that day for a long time. A thin figure wrapped up in a red-and-white cloak, with the griffins dancing. And her laughing face. And the tears of her mother, and the long song of Sansa and Cat, which they sang in complete silence. Their tender girlish voices stood in his ears for a long time, causing acute and tender sadness.

He also remembered the blossoming almond branches, with which servants plaited columns and railings everywhere. And long ribbons that swayed in the wind. And wine, and his own speeches at the height of the feasts, and Brienne's smile.

And the birds, these birds, they seemed to be flying everywhere over them.

A few days later, the guests began to leave Tarth. 

Later the time has come also for the first ship to go to the Roost. Joanna and Ronnel stood by the side, and the wind ruffled her golden strands and his thick chestnut hair.

\- Take more soldiers, - said Jaime.  
\- Send them by the next ship, - Joanna pouted, - we don’t want to come to the Roost like some conquerors.  
\- Maybe you're right, my lord, - Ronnel said diplomatically. - We should be more careful. But the wind takes us home very quickly. And it is too cold and misty for pirates.  
\- But the sea… - Jaime began again.  
\- We will send a message as soon as we get home, - his daughter blithely cut him off. - It will happen literally the other day. Father, please. Everything will be fine. I promise you. 

She took his hand in her own, tightened with a thin glove.

\- Listen, it’s nothing to worry about. I love you very much. But now let us go.

She kissed his cheek and stepped back.

\- Take care of mama. Take care of them all, father. We will see each other soon! Very soon!

He began to descend from the ramp, trying not to look back. The sailors helped him. Brienne, who was watching all of this, with a face in which joy was mixed with sadness and hope, raised her hand. The wind threw her cloak up and down, and it flapped like the wings of a huge bird.

\- Be careful! - she shouted.

\- We will be there very soon!   
That was Galladon, and Joanna rolled her eyes expressively.

\- Prepare the wine, yes, more! - shouted Arthur, and Podrick burst into a laugh. Jaime heard Ronnel's response laughter.

\- Take care of our Marona, - Cat was giggling. – Obey her in everything!

Septa Marona (whom the newlyweds persuaded to go with them to help her beloved Joanna prepare everything for the wedding balls) angrily turned back.

But she said nothing. Soon her gray gown was out of sight.  
The ship departed from the wharf and straightened the sails. The wind really drove him away, but quickly subsided, and Jaime saw dozens of oars being lowered.  
When the whole family, silenced and devastated, returned to the castle, the ship was already sailing to the horizon. Soon she went out of sight.

It seemed to Jaime then that not only the castle after the wedding feasts was empty - but that all his life was empty and stopped for a moment.

At night, a cold wind drove the fog away. Silence reigned everywhere, dead and painful. The moon rose, bright stars lit up in winter.  
And under this cold canopy, the sea started to burn.

\- The ship is on fire! - Shouted someone downstairs. A fuss rose in the courtyard and the lights of torches swept.  
\- Pirates! They burned the ship!  
\- Which one?  
\- Griffins! Or maybe another one. There were a lot of them on the roadstead!  
\- They poured tar and set it on fire!

Jaime woke up from these screams and saw Brienne hastily put on her robe. In the dim light, he barely found his boots. Jumping over the steps, he ran down, following his wife. Along the way, his eldest sons fell to him, and Sansa, Catelyn, and the maids. Twisted faces flashed across, twins rushing past. They ran out into the yard, and the soldier grabbed Jaime's sleeve.

\- Ser Jaime, the pirates set fire to one of the ships at the bay. Take a look. The sea!

The sea on the horizon was filled with lights. Burning tar poured over the waves and burned like a strip of blood. Thick gray smoke rose to the sky. People fled somewhere to the harbors.

\- Western Bay, - someone clever has shouted finally.

Podrick and Arthur in a few big jumps were on the stone steps leading to the beach. Jaime ran after them. The sea shone scarlet, orange, illuminating the night and shimmering ominous lights. Getting bogged down the sand, hastily, heavy-handedly, people ran to the surf, and soon Jaime understood why. The current dragged to the shore the fragments of masts and charred boards.

Soon he saw the rest. Silhouettes of dead people, they were all floating in the water, face down, dozens of them. 

Their cloaks were blown up with wet blisters. He saw the scarlet cloaks of the Connington’s and the blue ones of Tarth soldiers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Podrick and Arthur had entered the water fearlessly, they were dragging the bodies onto the sand, quickly, with a young strength, cursing through their teeth. Brienne rushed after them into the water, and Jaime hurried after her. The water was icebound, but he almost did not notice.

They pulled sailors and soldiers, and servants, and maids. Their bodies were heavy; their clothes were tangled in the fingers. Many heads were cut off almost completely and dangled on the strips of skin and bone remnants, like some broken flowers. The water was scarlet from blood; it was heavy, and smelled of metal and death.

One by one they dragged the dead to the sand. Breathing was steaming. Dark trails were licked by the surf, and they again ran in the waves, stretched out their hands and caught wet bodies. 

Jaime stopped. He stood waist-high in the water and watched as a broken gray figure moved slowly towards him. Her bony face was solemn, pale. Cut from ear to ear, the throat gaped with an otherworldly smile.

He raised her with one hand, moving clumsy, helping himself with a stump, and, feeling neither cold nor heavy, carried her to the shore. He stumbled, trembling. 

Seeing the body of Septa Marona Catelyn screamed in anger. Sansa put her hands over her mouth. Her face was full of pain. Jaime carefully placed the body on the heavy sand. Septa looked into the starry sky with the same judging and calm look as she always did. Seawater flowed from her mouth.

Again more shouts, flashes of torches above, and lights below flooded the bay with red shadows.

He stared into the waves, desperate and no longer understanding anything. Podrick and Arthur were catching a fragment of the mast.

Ronnel Connington, a worthy son of an unworthy father, was attached to it. Once the owner of Griffin's Roost and the happy husband of his eldest daughter, and now just naked and wet, and a dead young man. His hands were spread, his wrists were tied. In one eye there was a fragment of an arrow sticking out, and the wounds on the stomach, chest, and loins had been already washed by the sea, and they seemed insignificant, like scars or cuts ... Ronnel was pale, solemn and quiet.

Someone shouted at the sight of Ronnel, shouted and fell on the sand, and Jaime slowly realized that it was Brienne. She cried and for some insane reason wiped the poor boy’s face with the edge of her robe. Podrick tried to pull her away.

\- Joanna! - she suddenly screamed.

She jumped up and ran frantically into the surf, but now she did not drag out the dead, but only ran from one to another, turned them over and cried out so loud, so helplessly.

\- Joanna! Please! Joanna!...

And Jaime suddenly realized that the second voice, the one that echoed this wail, was his own.

And he himself fled in the darkness, he rushed to this burning sea, in the icy surf, he trashed from the body to body, and wept, and pleaded.

It lasted so long, almost endlessly, that he almost lost himself in this huge night.


	8. Meat traders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- I forgive you. And, whatever will happen in Essos, please, remember: I’ve never blamed you. And don't you blame yourself, Jaime.

Jaime looked from above. The bodies lay on soft gray sand, wrapped in white and blue cloaks, in straight rows. The boat approached and the warrior rose to his full height. He looked up and, seeing Jaime, waved his hand. Servants began to unload two more bodies. These were the corpses of soldiers.

Brienne next to him found his hand and squeezed.  
Jaime wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t force himself. All these deaths were his fault. Most of his people here were no older than twenty...

Gulls circled over the sea, sobbing and repeating the same piercing note. Time, it seemed to him, froze on this cold winter beach.

\- They didn't find her, - Brienne said suddenly. Her voice sounded dull, monotonous.  
\- No, but… We will search.

She nodded without turning her head. No tears. Not a shout anymore since that night.

\- I will send out the ravens, - she said calmly.

He remembered her frozen face on the days when Selwyn was buried. Then he could make her angry, to make cry grief. But now he understood her, and he himself could neither cry nor scream. It seemed to him as if, be he remained silent and calm, the greatest loss would pass him by.

Brienne went into the rooms, and Jaime stood and watched - dozens of bodies, burned and wounded, but now completely washed by sea waves, mercifully covered in Tarth’s colors. 

The body of their Septa had already been taken to the courtyard. Servants gathered there to arrange a funeral and a worthy farewell. He remembered her even and quiet voice, her ugly skinny face under this gray shawl. 

And the way she shook baby Cat in her long arms. As she ran through the galleries after Podrick, comb in her hand. As she pressed her lips to the cold mouth of a newborn. How she braided the golden hair of his daughters. How she sat at children beds all night long if they were sick. 

And how she awkwardly danced at the wedding, circled in dance with Sansa and Joanna, unexpectedly happy, proud, like a mother.

What are her light gray eyes looking at now? Where are people like her going to? The lands of eternal honey and joy, where she will be freed from gray clothes and a hateful ugly body, or to those dark labyrinths of faith, where, finally, her prayers will bring relief to the soul that has never known even a trace of sin?

What a thought.   
He saw so many deaths and funerals in his lifetime, but for some reason, Marona’s death today disturbed him most, pricking his heart. Maybe he became old, soft, and his mind started to soften and decay, like a rotten apple. After all, he was a reason for so many of those deaths. His mistakes were the source of his own decay too.

\- Father?

He turned his head. Cat stood, clearly agitated, her back was straight, her short hair was partly bright blue, like some exotic bird’s crest.   
Near her, he saw her best friend, that angry Greyjoy's girl. She watched frowningly, her long face seemed especially pale and shy. Well though, it has always been like this ...

\- This is Theona.  
\- I remember her.  
\- She was at the wedding ...  
\- I remember, - he interrupted impatiently.

He did not want to hear the words of sympathy at this moment… or maybe never. 

\- She wants to tell you something, father. Please, let her. It is important.

Jaime relented. He turned to the girls completely, leaning heavily on his cane.

\- What is it? Come closer, child. Do not be afraid.

\- I'm not a child. And I'm not afraid, - Theona said gloomily. Yet she came closer and stood to face him. She turned her head for a moment, but when she saw the beach dotted with dead bodies, she hastily turned away.

\- Are you not the same age? - he asked, forcing a smile. It lasted on his chapped lips not longer than a second.

\- Greyjoy’s ships were on the road, - Catelyn interfered. - Theona, tell him everything.

\- A few of ours stayed in the bay, - Theona said, her lips twisted. - It's shallow here in harbors and the waves could beat the ships. There were ours and several strangers. The Griffin ship passed by, and ...  
\- Did any of yours see them attack? Who it was?  
\- Yes, they did. It happened at night and there was little to be understood. However, something we realized.  
\- What?  
\- They came from this side of Tarth, so as not to fly into the current that brought here them ...

Theona pointed at the bodies on the sand.

\- They were preparing. They knew where they were going. They could sail the ship far into the bay, then they would have to go after her, but they obviously did not want to.  
\- They wanted to slip back into the Narrow Sea.  
\- And as soon as possible.

Catelyn looked alarmed.

\- What was that ship?  
\- Hard to say. Not Tyroshi. Maybe Pentoshy or Ibbenese, or even Lorath. They say they shouted from the decks in Ibbenese. But also someone heard the speech of the Dothraki.  
\- Do Dothraki go with pirates?  
\- Now yes. Albeit a bit. Most of all they are afraid to drown. But they are not afraid to kill, and they learn how to do that on the sea very quickly.

Dragon Bitch. She brought this poison to his land and taught them a new deadly craft ...

\- Is the ship big?  
\- No. Whaler, designed for longer raids.  
\- What about the sails?  
\- Ours say, purple without sigils.  
\- Is it for sure?  
\- The sea was burning and everything was very fast. They say it was like… they knew who they followed. They chased them for a while. Then they set fire to the sail. Then they attacked and started killing, throwing bodies into the water. Then spilled a tar and burned the ship. They took something for themselves, but not much. That was the most strange thing, my people think it was strange and muddy. Probably gold, weapons, everything that was found in a fast attack. And ... they say they took a girl for themselves. She screamed, but they hit her and then it was silence around. 

Jaime lowered his head.

\- Father? Do you understand what this means? Joanna is alive. They have captured her...

He still could not utter a word.

\- Not captured. Maybe they’ve just had fun and dropped her anyway, only farther, - Theona said harshly.

\- What?

\- Where they’ve headed? - Jaime asked in a dead voice.  
\- Far from there, - Theona shrugged. - Nobody will tell you. Unless you’ll begin to question all the ship members from here to Tyrosh or Dorn. I liked your elder daughter, my lord. I would not want her to go through it. And yet, I think, she is now far away, maybe forever.   
\- No, - Catelyn reddened so that her freckles and scars disappeared. - Not that! Do not say that!   
\- Well yes, Cat, I will. Because no one knows where they can be. Probably, go to Dorn, Ibben or somewhere else in full sail. Try to find, to catch! And even if you succeed, they will slaughter your sister as soon as they feel the danger. Will throw her overboard, and… that's the end of a story.

Catelyn bit her lip.

\- No, - Jaime said. - They needed her. Otherwise, they would not have dared to attack here, inside the bay, so close to the island, at the place full of other ships and taking almost nothing else... Therefore, she is a value.

\- Maybe, - Theona’s skinny shoulder twitched, - in that case they will demand a ransom. That would be the best end.

Jaime gave his cane to Catelyn. He extended his hand and squeezed Theona’s shoulder.

\- We all thank you for what you said. Believe me, we will not forget this. Tarth will never forget.

\- I liked her. I mean... Joanna. She doesn't look like you, - Theona said boldly. - There was kindness in her. My mother says that good people always die first. 

Cat shook her head angrily.

\- But, she is alive. After all, you say it yourself...  
\- I say only what I know. And who is alive, who is not - only Drowning God knows.  
\- And yet accept my thanks, Theona Greyjoy. You are a good girl. And pass it also to your mother.

Jaime went away not looking back. 

Without a doubt, Yara Greyjoy soon will learn how stupid her daughter acted. Greyjoys have always maneuvered between the law and piracy. Issuing pirates, she could incur the wrath of all sea scum of both continents. The girl started the hard path of treason.   
But Theona was not afraid…

Maybe our children are really better than us, he thought.  
And maybe we just want to think so.

When he finished his story, Brienne got up and began pacing near the windows. He saw how the pallor on her face gives way to a scarlet blush of anger. Jaime hastily said:

-So we should go to the Free Cities. We will start with Tyrosh. Perhaps it makes sense to separate on two or three groups. I'm sure if we hurry, we can even catch up...

She shook her head sadly:  
\- Judging by the story of the girl, they run off light. But if the wind will help… Gods, please help us.

Reluctantly, Jaime said:  
\- Perhaps it would be worth keeping Theona Greyjoy here.  
\- Pardon me?

He wanted to hide his eyes. But next to his wife he rarely succeeded. Jaime pretended to shift parchments on his desk, already littered with maps, letters, and scrolls.

\- If she lied to us. Laid on the wrong track. Greyjoys do not quarrel with the pirates, and she could play along with them. Then it would be worthwhile to leave her as a hostage here, with us. We would not hurt her. Her mother would then help us find Joanna ...

Brienne looked startled and angry at the same time:

\- What are you talking about?  
\- We won't do her any harm, - Jaime repeated stubbornly.  
\- Tarth does not take children as a hostage.  
\- But we have no other way.  
\- We won't do that, - she said firmly. - And you will not repeat the mistakes of Ned Stark. He also believed that foster a Greyjoy child was a good idea.

He raised his hand in surrender.

\- I did not expect that you would like this.  
\- This is the most disgusting thing we can do now. The girl helped you, helped us all, we can't do that.  
\- We do not yet know whether it was a help or a fraud.  
\- Enough, - Brienne turned away sharply, - I don't even want to listen. She is a friend of your daughter, Jaime.

He paused, confused.

\- I don't like that much either. For her age, she knows too much. I do not like that she spends a lot of time with Cat.  
\- Nonsense. She is still a child.  
\- She is a child from the Iron Islands.  
\- You're going crazy, - she said. Her face burned. The voice trembled. - You are ready to lock up your daughters, hide them from everyone if it only will help you feel calm.

Now he raised his voice.

\- So you think, I was wrong? Look at where Joanna ended up! It didn't teach you anything, huh? Yes, I should have locked her away from everyone, it would have been worth not to let this poor Connington come here, and, oh what a sudden conclusion, he would be alive! Worth taking care of our daughters properly. It would be worthwhile to protect Cat from this little brigand and Sansa from this ibbenese beast. Ibben! His relatives on that pirate ship must now be very pleased. And who knows if this bastard had not a hand in the abduction. Seventh Hell, you do not even understand how right I was all this time. And you, you, after everything that happened, dare to condemn me?!

She stared down at him for a few seconds. Her chin was wobbling.  
Then she turned away and tried to step away, but Jaime got up from the table and grabbed her by the shoulder.

\- Listen to me when I speak.  
\- You've told enough.  
\- I said, listen to me!

She recoiled, and he suddenly realized that he was yelling at her.

Her gaze slid over his arm, squeezing her sleeve, and then over his face.

Jaime opened his fingers. He felt such burning and unbearable shame that if she had thought now, in a fit of anger, to smash his head against a stone wall - he would pray with gratitude. But nothing like this Brienne was going to do.

She just looked into his face closely, as if trying to read something on it.

\- Please forgive. I beg you, I was angry and I shouldn't have ...

He fell silent, unable to say any other word.

\- Ser Brienne? Ser Jaime?

They turned at once. On the threshold, looking at them with the greatest perplexity, Podrick Payne stood.

\- I beg your pardon, dearest Sers. My… my duty has detained me in the capital, and I should have arrived at the wedding, but I obviously ... was late ...

Brienne went to him, almost ran, he tried to bow awkwardly, in his gold armor and white coat. A gray strand crossed his dark hair. 

Brienne approached him, bent over and hugged tightly. Podrick clumsily hugged her back and looked over her shoulder at Jaime, just gazed at him with a burning gaze.

Oh gods, well, it is not surprising that they all do not trust him. And never did.

The next morning Jaime came out of the forge, where servants were hurriedly fixing his armor, and stopped when he heard someone's indignant shouts. Brienne stood on the training court, surrounded by children.

\- I’ll go with you, - Catelyn swung her crossbow aggressively. - You need good warriors.  
\- Don't even think about it, - Brienne said tiredly, putting the Oathkeeper into the sheath.  
\- You won't forbid me this time.  
\- You bet I will.  
\- Come on, Cat, it's not at all like the tourney in King's Landing, - Arthur said conciliatory. - This is not for young maidens.  
\- The tourney was also not for young maidens.  
\- Maybe you will need those who speak ibbenese? - Sansa asked with hope. - I can go with you! Ans taught me a little ...  
\- Gods, keep quiet already about this dark-haired bastard, - Cat snapped. – Father was right, he didn't trust him not in vain.  
\- Shut up yourself! Do not repeat after him! Ans is a good man. And father is completely mad with grief! He and mama don't even talk now.  
\- Yes? This is because he is right, he was right all that time!  
\- You're the same crazy! And your pirate girlfriend...

Cat put up a crossbow at Sansa, but Podrick angrily pushed it aside. 

\- Don’t you dare to ever do that! Do you hear me, stupid girl?  
\- I shoot a crossbow well too, - Gerion put in.  
\- It was so good that he tore off his finger, - Arthur snorted.  
\- Hey, take it easy, Ser Handsome, - Galladon said. - You’re joking around once more, you’ll get ...  
\- Enough, little things. Get out of here, - Podrick said crossly. - Let us pack up. We do not have time to listen to your whining.

Brienne shook her head. Her hair, gathered into a soft, short braid, was scattered across the shoulder plates of her armor.

\- Catelyn, sweetling, you stay here. And you, Sansa. And younger boys too. The journey is going to be difficult. This is not for kids.

\- But we want to help, - Sansa said. It seemed she had already forgotten about the heated quarrel with her sister.  
\- We will help, - Catelyn asserted with conviction. - Listen to us, please.

\- You both won't help us - Brienne said harshly. - The places where Joanna is now, are dangerous, full of terrors, of bad things. It's about life and death. And you can not fight there. 

\- We can! We will!   
\- Have you ever killed?

Cat, taken aback, looked up at her mother.

\- I don't ... But I'm ready! I can! Of course, I can.  
\- I ask you, have you ever killed?

When the girl did not answer, Brienne straightened and snapped her fingers, beckoning the servant.  
\- Bring Lady Pearl here.

Lady Pearl was the oldest horse in the stables. Once a beautiful mare, now she has become a blind and old nag. Her joints were swollen, and her belly almost dragged along the ground. Everyone felt sorry for her, and everyone cared for her as best they could, but only a little time she had left to live.

Jaime, with a bad sense of foreboding, came closer. He looked around and saw Ser Payne watching, too.

The horse was led, and it got up, docile, chewing something, next to Brienne. Brienne stroked the mane, and then drew her sword from its sheath:

\- Take the sword and finish the mare. Show us your courage and give the poor thing mercy. 

Cat took a step back.

\- You said you could. So show us.

The children stood in a wide circle, silently.

\- I don't ... Mama! Please!

Brienne lowered her sword and wiped her brow.

\- You, Sansa, and twins. Stay here. You all must stay and wait for us. It is your duty, the same as the duty of the rest is to save Joanna.

Cat suddenly drew the sword from her mother’s hand. Grabbing it with both hands, with her face strangely bewildered and full of horror, she lifted the Oathkeeper above the horse's neck. 

And the next second she threw it aside, weeping.

Sansa rushed to the horse and hugged her. Cat sat down on the ground and cried so bitterly that Jaime's heart ached. Her blue hair waved by the cold wind and trembled from the sobs.

Podrick Payne came closer to him.

\- Ser Jaime, you will surely need any help. I am ready to go with you. For Brienne Tarth's children, I’ll do anything. I offer you my help, my skills, and my fidelity.

\- Maybe it really comes in handy, - Jaime muttered.

\- And I would also like to say that ... Is it possible to discourage Ser Brienne to go with us?

Jaime looked at him searchingly.

\- How do you know that ...  
\- It will come to mind of any sensible person, my lord.  
\- Don't call me that. We are equal, remember? You took my place after all.   
\- So do you agree?  
\- I could have never dissuaded her. Besides, yesterday we... had a fight.  
\- Loss always brings despair and anger, and anger is a fight. You will make peace eventually. However, keeping young children without both parents is wrong. She is a warrior, and the best warrior we both know, but she is also a mother.  
\- Brienne is stubborn as hell and won't listen to us.  
\- I’ll try. We can handle, you, me and two older brothers. We will take a small detachment to have cover, but we can’t land in Tyrosh with an army, attracting attention. We still can not cope there, except that we have to drive the entire fleet, and we will only lose time and, perhaps, the speed of movement.

\- In Tyrosh, we’d better act carefully, quietly, - Jaime agreed, - and besides, most likely we will have to go further east or north. Quickness we will need most of all.  
\- Let me talk to her.

Brienne was sitting on the bed, smoothing the folds of the blue silk cloak laid on her knees. Embellished with stars and moons, it seemed almost weightless.  
Jaime walked over to her and knelt heavily.

\- We sail tomorrow, on a dawn.

She looked into his face. He noticed a thin trace of tear on her cheek and gently wiped it with his thumb.

\- We will return her, I promise. We will return our daughter home.  
\- Take her cloak, - she picked up an embellished cloth from her knees. - She loved it. She was fourteen years old when Sansa embroidered it for her. Then she grew up and put on ... a stranger's cloak.

Her lips twisted, as if in pain.

\- Yes, - Jaime said quickly, - I'll give her the cloak. And you will see it again, see how she stands on the deck of the ship, dressed in this cloak and smiles to you …

Brienne sobbed, quite childishly.

\- Will you forgive me for starting all these quarrels? For raising my voice? For that I could not save my child and blamed you and everyone else?

She shook her head, then gently clasped his face with her long palms.

\- I forgive you. And, whatever will happen in Essos, please, remember: I’ve never blamed you. And don't you blame yourself, Jaime.

He laid his head on her knees, on this cloak smelling of dew and sage. Until dawn was quite a bit. But he wanted to spend these last moments next to his wife, in her warmth and love. Her legs were still as strong as of young girl's. Long, beautiful legs, created by the gods to run fast and stay in the saddle, and to saddle a man and give him infinite happiness. And, pressing his cheek to her thigh, Jaime suddenly felt the total rightness of his world and his place.

\- My lady? - the maid appeared in the door, and Jaime hastily recoiled and stood up, as if he was caught in some shameful deed.

Brienne quickly wiped her wet cheeks.

\- Yes, Talla. What is it?  
\- The man came from the harbors. He asks for you ... And for Ser Jaime.  
\- Who is he?

Talla stared at her silently.

\- Who is that? - Brienne repeated patiently, but louder.  
\- He says he came for the body.

Jaime and his wife looked at each other.

It was hard for him to look into Unsullied's eyes. They seemed bottomless, like the darkness itself. 

Dressed in common leather armor, he was tall and handsome, and it was difficult to determine the age. His face remained smooth, impassive, dark skin had silver shade. But his once black hair was covered with a white scattering of gray. Hair was collected in a thick braid, intercepted by leather stripes. He wore a scarlet cloak with an embroidered Griffin, but on his hip, he carried a curved sword, like those used by eastern savages.

Looking up at the Lannisters, he parted his lips and spoke almost without an accent:

\- I came for the body.

Brienne hurried down the stairs, holding her skirts.

\- My lord. We welcome you here. We did not expect your ship to arrive so quickly. Let me express our condolences ...  
\- I want to take the body, - the giant repeated.  
\- Of course, - Jaime said. - We put it in the icehouse. Our septon is ready to conduct the ceremony if it is your will.  
\- We will bury him ourselves.

Brienne approached the Unsullied. He was a little taller than her. She said:  
\- I'm sorry.  
\- I’m sorry for your daughter, - he said calmly.

For a few seconds, they silently looked at each other. Under Brienne's gaze, something in the face of a giant trembled.

\- He had to live so long that people laughed when they met him as an old man. He should have had children, and the children of their children, and the children of these children. He had to live. I decided so when I saw him as a little boy in those stones, among the ashes and flames of a dragon. But who am I? I can not decide. I can’t decide anything ... I want to bring him home.

\- How can I call you, my lord? - Jaime asked carefully.  
\- My name is Big Ape, - the giant said slightly in surprise. - Didn't he tell you?  
\- Yes, yes ... of course ... But this is the name that ...  
\- I don't feel offended.

Jaime took him to the body, and while Ape stood above it, gazing at the pale and thin face of poor Ronnel, he awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other.

\- Who did this? - suddenly, without turning around, the Unsullied asked.

Jaime told him in detail about the attack. When he finished, Ape was silent for a few seconds, without even turning his head.

\- They’ve killed everyone?  
\- The whole team, the soldiers of Tarth, the maids, and our septa, your young lord, his servants, and your soldiers.  
\- And yet, not all. Have they left your daughter alive? They will seek the ransom.  
\- I prayed for that, - Jaime said with unexpected frankness. – But I can’t wait anymore.  
\- You will be looking for them, - it didn’t even sound like a question.  
\- Tomorrow we set off.  
\- How many of you?  
\- We want to be fast and not attract any attention ...  
\- How many?

Jaime explained.

\- Send the bodies to the Roost. Ronnel's and everyone’s ours. Take for this our ship. It stands in the harbor. I will go with you.

\- But ... - Jaime was taken aback.  
\- You are old, you are limping and you have no hand. You all need a warrior, not an old man. And I ... I want to find those who killed him. I want to look into their eyes before I’ll cut their throats and crush their skulls.

In the morning the sea was covered with fog. To sail away in such weather was dangerous, but also extremely reasonable. It was not worthwhile to draw attention to the expedition, because rumors spread continually across the continents, and even faster than deliberate spy’s messages.

Brienne took turns hugging his sons and him. He pressed his cheek to her hair, the last time he inhaled its scent, then climbed the ladder and did not turn around anymore.

Had he later not regretted that he did not remember their eyes and words - his wife's and daughters, his younger sons? That he did not see how they wave to him, the fragile figures on a stone mole, dressed in warm cloaks and with trembling smiles on their sleepy faces? How gradually they all disappeared in the fog?

Of course, he regretted it. But it was just one more mistake of the many he had ahead.

A week later, he was sitting in Tyrosh, in a huge and noisy port tavern, thinking gloomily that the search here seemed to come to a dead end. During the day spent in the port, they could not talk to anyone useful, and those to whom gold or threats unleashed languages did not really know anything.   
Arthur returned and, catching father’s gaze from afar, shook his head slightly. Both Podricks appeared. Ape promised to find out about the pirate ships from those who transported the Unsullied, but hope was weak. It was past midnight, everyone was dead tired and barely able to stand. Jaime poured himself hot water with spices, hoping that the nasty taste in his mouth and the hot wave would wake him up a little. Arthur plopped down on the chair next to him.

\- Useless. Maybe we started in vain from here, father.

Jaime did not argue. Most likely, they will have to leave Tyrosh and continue the search ... but where?

\- I rented rooms. We will spend the night here, more ships will come in the morning, there will be new people there. We will question them, - Jaime said.  
\- We don’t need to stay here for too long.

And again he did not object. Arthur and Podrick no longer listened to him unconditionally, and it seems that everyone, including Jaime himself, came to terms with it.

Both Podricks sat down at the table, and immediately it became crowded. Huge, taller than even his own mother, in shining combat armor, Podrick Lannister looked impressive and frightening. People were either admired him or in a sheer flutter. Jaime hoped that this would help them to think faster, but so far it did not help.

\- Where is the Unsullied?  
\- Coming soon. He promised to talk to his people. They often attack slavers. And know pirates. Here, have a drink. This stuff copes well with sleep, - he pushed his son the spiced water.

Podrick sipped and grimaced.

\- It won't help, - he spat the rest back into the mug. - It is impossible to drink.  
\- Go and sleep a little, - said Jaime, looking at the pale, haggard faces of his children. - Ser Payne, you also need to rest.  
\- And what about you?  
\- I will wait for our giant.

He beckoned to the maid and told her to show the guests to their rooms.  
As soon as they were gone, Jaime felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He automatically grabbed the sword.

\- Lannister. Sapphire king! What are you doing here?

Ralleo had already painted his mustache in emerald green. Some embroidered silk cloths were wound on his head. Jaime slowly let his fingers slip off the Oathkeeper. Ralleo sat down opposite him with the most pleasant smile, delighted, as if he had met an old friend.

\- Traveling with trading deals, - Jaime said carefully.  
\- I recognized you. I remember your sons. Are these, with witch eyes, also with you?  
\- No.  
\- It's good. Oh, I still remember those eyes. Although sometimes I think they might be useful to me. With such brisk guys, you can trade decently, - Ralleo contentedly stroked his mustache. - In the west, most of you people trade poorly. Talking with such arrogance. Can not talk good. These boys can.  
\- They fooled you, - Jaime said in amazement. - And you admire them?  
\- I myself have tricked some people in my youth, - Ralleo giggled blithely. - Talents should not disappear. Will you drink some wine? I'll give you a treat!  
\- No, but thank you.  
\- I remembered you also because you kept your word, - the merchant said seriously. - I keep no evil just because you paid me all my gold. You are a man of honor. I appreciate it. So tell me, what brought you to Tyrosh? And why didn't you send to me right after you came here?  
\- Why should I?  
\- I would take you to my home, - Ralleo said proudly. - After all, I have a house not only in Pentos, here I have a huge castle, and my girls would be honored to please you and all your relatives ...  
\- Tempting, but no. We will leave soon.  
\- Pity, - the merchant said, not offended. - I liked you.

Jaime thought a minute and made up his mind.

\- Tell me, Honorable Ralleo, have you met here the people familiar with whaling trade?  
\- Ibbenese? - the merchant grunted with disgust. – Oh, hate them. Smelly, scary people.  
\- Do you know their ships?  
\- I know all the fishing vessels from here to Lorath. Well, to Ibben too ... partly. Only not all of them are whalers now. There is a product much more interesting.

\- What do you mean?  
\- If you are looking for whalers, then this is one thing, - Ralleo said and motioned the maid. Jaime waited patiently. Servants brought wine, fruit and a basket of hot bread.

\- And if I am looking for ibbenese ships with purple sails? - Jaime asked, watching how Ralleo chews vigorously.  
Under his gaze or from his words, but Ralleo stopped chewing. He drank some wine and sat back so abruptly in the back of a chair that it almost cracked.

\- Then you don’t need whalebone, my dearest sapphire king, - the merchant said quietly and completely seriously.  
\- Probably, I’m looking for something else, - Jaime continued his game, not wanting to blurt out too much.  
\- Meat, - Ralleo said coldly. - Meat traders. I guess?

Jaime had to pour wine himself.

\- Maybe.  
\- Decided to open a brothel in your sapphire island? Consider, these purchases are now dangerous. And I generally think that a crying girl will bring far less money than a girl with a smile. However, there are always fanciers of tearful whores.  
\- Do they sell live goods? Where to find them?  
\- Meat traders? There are few people here in Tyrosh. Only now it has become dangerous. It was dangerous under the Dragon Slut as well, but now there are other rules. Unsullied cut their throats at night, and then people come from Volantis and demand money for their protection ... And now I sometimes think, is it not the colluding of Unsullied with these volantenes?

\- Do you know such people, Ralleo? - Jaime decided to return the conversation back to the topic.

The merchant nervously stroked his mustache.

\- I did not expect it from you, Lannister, of course. You have good children, but you, apparently, are a rotten person.  
\- You just said that I am a man of honor.  
\- Yes. This is surprising actually. Maybe your woman kept you in check. Or your sorcerer king. Or your crippled brother. But you yourself, I see, are not too choosy.  
\- I’m not choosy at all, - Jaime assured him.  
\- If you are really ready for that, I will give you a name. I myself will not go to him, do not even ask.

Returning to the rooms, he remembered the whole conversation and grinned sadly.  
Jaime Lannister, a man of honor so quickly turned out to be a man without it. 

Ralleo was not even surprised.   
He himself was not surprised either.

The man they came to the next day was called Baellor Essah. Maybe he had other names. However, they were let in.

He was a tall man with a sharp, quick, bird-like gaze and tar-colored hair. Dressed in lackluster leather, he wore neither rings nor bracelets. But his belt was hung with at least four daggers of different lengths. He looked dangerous and probably was such.

\- What need led three westerosi and two giants to me, - he inquired in an irreverent tone. 

Jaime nodded to Arthur, and his son, along with Ape, stood at the threshold. Mercenaries of all races roamed the corridors of a large house on the edge of Tyroshi port. Arthur put his hand on the door lock.

Baellor understood everything. He remained seated at his desk, but his face took on a fierce expression.

\- You won't get out of here alive, - he warned.  
\- If you cooperate, then we will leave, - Jaime promised him.  
\- What do you want? Blackmail will not pass here, not with me.  
\- We were not going to threaten you.  
\- Then why show up?  
\- Let's just say, there is a ship whose location we would like to know.  
\- I do not own a single vessel at sea.  
\- But you do trading with them.  
\- Maybe. Bargaining a little, but not that you are interested.  
\- Why do you think that we are not interested in your product?

Ser Payne frowned slightly at Jaime's fake frankness.

\- Recently there are not enough goods. I give it to dealers.   
\- Whaler under a purple sail. Do you know this one?  
\- There are several of them at sea.  
\- Where the Dothraki are serving.

Baellor grimaced. In his eyes, Jaime saw that he understood which ship he was talking about and now he was struggling to figure out what to answer.

-They're keeping the stolen maiden, - Podrick said, moving closer.

Jaime glanced at him warningly.

\- They've kept her, but I guess already not, - Baellor answered quickly.  
\- What for?   
\- They were supposed to resell her here, but for some reason did not.

Podrick, without any preliminaries, drew his sword and thrust it under Baellor’s ear. 

The weapons rang around because the situation from deceptively calm immediately turned into a very tense one. Baellor began to rise and opened his mouth to cry, but Podrick pushed the tip of the sword deeper. A trickle of blood ran.

\- Stop talking in vain. Tell me where she is, or I'll take your head off your shoulders. One motion is enough for me.

Arthur and Ape quickly looked out the door, then slammed it shut and locked it.

\- They will come here, - Baellor promised.  
\- By the time they come, your head will already be lying around here, - Jaime pointed to the floor. - Answer the question.  
\- Volantis. They seemed to be ordered to take her there.  
\- For whom?  
\- I don’t know! Those Ibbenese did not trade this time either. They told me that they were bringing a valuable commodity, a fair-haired girl, that she could not be sold to anyone until they reported to the customer. R'hllor only knows what's going on. Some people want to intercept my business, I do not find another explanation. Somebody kills meat traders. Even shadow dealers are in danger. Lady Delaney is dead ...

\- What? - Jaime choked with surprise and he did not even have time to keep his question.

\- She has been selling live goods for many years. No one knew about this. Except for me and maybe a couple of people all over Essos. A pious westerosi woman, of noble birth, a quiet old bitch. But someone figured her out.

\- You have a dangerous job, - Arthur remarked in a boring voice.  
\- No more dangerous than yours, golden knight, - Baellor snapped.  
\- So to whom in Volantis they can give their goods? Think faster! Surmise. Help us and we will leave immediately.  
\- All I can think of… Taverns and brothels “Purple Tail”, their hostess is buying fresh meat. There are more places there, but smaller, and, judging by their explanation, Ibbenese are well paid. “Tail” is the richest.

Jaime looked around the room. The sun's rays played on numerous statues on shelves, on golden masks and swords, daggers and shields hanging on the walls.

\- Let him go, - he ordered. – But first, let’s shut his mouth.

Ape readily approached the merchant and thrust a piece of rope into his mouth, generously soaked in wine. He rewound him with more long ropes, Baellor’s arms and legs were tied up too and, just in case, they tied him to a heavy armchair.

\- The wine will calm you down a bit, - Jaime promised.

He decided not to inform him that they had added a fair amount of poppy milk to the wine because the meat trader already looked very angry.

The palace of Lady Delaney turned out to be more than he expected. The magnificent building in the new valirian style, with columns, terraces, and hanging gardens, was located on a hill overgrown with orange and lemon trees. Cicadas sang furiously in thick grass. He entered completely unhindered, someone opened the gate wide, and in the courtyard, he was met only by a few servants, who were wandering with lost faces. Opened chests, rags, knickknacks, and crockery were lying around. It seemed as if the house was given to plundering to Tyroshi, and, most likely, it was so. Jaime climbed the stairs leading to a large gallery. A maid in a dirty chiton ran out to meet him, took an indifferent look and rushed away. He called her.  
\- Hey. What happened here?

It seemed a moment that she did not understand his language, but then she reluctantly, with a strong accent, said:

\- If you came here, you know yourself.  
\- Where is she?

The girl nervously twitched her bare shoulder.  
\- We gave the body to the God of Fire.  
\- Where are the others?  
\- Who? They all left, this house is no longer theirs.

Jaime sighed. He should have returned to the ship that was about to leave for Volantis. But the alarm that gripped him did not let go.

\- Why was she killed?  
\- This Westerosi chose her own fate herself, - the maid said. - You want to see it? Go and see.

The maid ran away, and Jaime had no choice but to enter the rooms. Chaos reigned everywhere, the house seemed to be turned upside down. Even the heavy low sofas were upended, with their gilded legs aimed at the ceilings. The velvet and silk bedspreads were strewn with shards of glass and porcelain. Everything smelled of rotting fruit and copper.

He found the master's chambers. In the very first room, he was again struck by this smell, which was magnified many times, sickening and heavy.

It was a bedroom. On the bed, the sheets were crumpled and crusted with dried blood. Lady Delaney may have resisted. Or most likely, trying to escape.

Wide, crimson trails stretched from the bed to the carpet. Flies circled over dark pools. The wall above the headboard, according to local custom covered with snow-white stucco, was spattered with something scarlet. There were clear handprints and smeared marks from them. And above all this, dangerously bright and strangely elegantly, someone brought out the words of a common language, written in blood on a white surface:

ALL WHORES MUST SERVE.


	9. Wounded Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Mother taught us that a knight should be kind, merciful to the weak and defenseless. 
> 
> Jaime shrugged.
> 
> \- Your mother is right. As to me… There is not much mercy in me. And there was never any kindness.
> 
> \- There is. - Arthur said with unexpected gentleness. - You were forced to think otherwise, but there has always been benignity in you.

The ship lay on the course, and the sea was calm.   
Lively voices were heard on the deck. Arthur and Podrick discussed passionately, and Jaime came closer. 

Arthur, probably, just told his brother about the new weapons that began to be forged at King’s Landing – those thin long swords, sharpen like the needles, created for quick and effective punctures between the armor. 

Podrick said with some envy:  
\- It would be useful. I am too heavy and big. I need a fast weapon.  
\- Yah? Brother, you will snap anybody’s neck with one hand.

Podrick shook his head.  
\- It is necessary that the blow was faster than lightning. I do not like to mess around. My own body is slowing me down.

Arthur laughed. Noticing his father, he became grave, guilty.  
Jaime sat down near.

\- There is nothing wrong with still being able to smile, - he remarked. - And also with the old swords.  
\- Thank you for the sword, father, - Arthur reddened slightly. He pulled the Widow's Wail out of its scabbard and lifted it up, admiring the sunset rays gliding over its surface. - But... Weren't you sorry to part with him?

\- I have another one. When this is over, the Oathkeeper will serve to Podrick.

Podrick looked down shyly:  
\- I've never asked ...  
\- And yet they both belong to our children.  
\- These swords are like husband and wife, - Arthur said with a weak smile. - They always remind me of you and mother.  
\- So it should be.

\- Are you fear for her, father?

Jaime, taken aback by a question, stared at the waves to win some time.

\- We all fear, - Podrick said quietly. - Ape told me that earlier, in Essos, brides used to been stolen from the weddings to punish and humiliate their fathers or other relatives. As a punishment for the debtors, for example... Do you think this makes sense?  
\- I owe nothing to anyone except my own children, - Jaime snapped frankly. - I think Joanna was not kidnapped for any special reasons except gold. And it saves her life.  
\- Do you remember how mama nearly made Catelyn execute this poor mare?  
\- Brienne knew that Cat wouldn't be able to, - Jaime frowned. - She just wanted to show her how dangerous is to rush into a fight that you can't afford.  
\- But the point is not this. When I think of Joanna and those who stole her, I want to kill, - Podrick said. - I've never wanted. Probably, I was a weakling.  
\- Pod, drop it, - Arthur interjected, - it's not so easy to kill. Believe me.  
\- And yet we grew up weak. Cat, and I, and Joanna ...  
\- Do you seriously think so?  
\- Joanna for sure. She does not know how to stand up for herself. She only reads books and does her needlework...

Podrick showed them a thin lace, woven from several multi-colored leather ribbons.

\- She wove it for me ... for my hair, - he bit his lip.

\- Mother trained her, - Arthur said after a heavy pause. - I don’t know why she’d decided that, but she taught both her and Sansa. Taught them to fight. To use the sword and to defend themselves.

Jaime didn't know that. Noticing his astonishment, Arthur quickly added:

\- I once have caught them in the yard. Joanna did pretty well. She is strong and fast. Moves clever. The only problem was that ... Like our little Cat, she did not want to murder or even hurt anybody. She's kind. And her husband... They are... were… the same, Ronnel could not even stand up for her ... for himself. She is too sensible, too soft. Believes that any fight can be solved with wise words.

He turned away. Without looking at anyone, he muttered:

\- I do not want to think about what this will lead to now.  
\- Joanna is a very smart girl, - Jaime uttered slowly. - The best thing she can do in her position now is not to resist and not to annoy those who hold her captive.  
\- Would you not resist?

Jaime experienced a painful and short, like a thunderbolt, feeling of repetitive fate.

\- I ... I don't know, son.  
\- Then do not talk about it! And do not speak of her in such a tone, as if she is some sort of meat.  
\- I didn't mean that...  
\- She is my sister!  
\- And my daughter, - Jaime snapped.

Arthur shook his head guiltily, but there was still stubbornness and pride in his voice:  
\- I am sorry. I shouldn't have started this conversation.  
\- You’ve just expressed what you feel and think.

\- Gods, - Podrick said angrily, - why have we even gave her to this Griffin? No more weddings, I swear. I always hated it.  
\- What about your own? – hiding his soft smile, Jaime spoke.  
\- What? Oh yes, I'd rather die on the spot than ever get married. I do not need this nonsense. You want my opinion? This wedding fuzz is pure horse shit.

\- There is the advantage of the White Cloak, - Arthur grinned proudly, - I don’t even need to worry about marriage. And all the girls in the King's Landing are agreed to anything ...

He stopped and glanced warily at Jaime. Jaime felt nothing but good-natured surprise at their foolish youthful confidence. Has he really been like that? Yes, and he, perhaps, even spent too long being like that ...

\- The day will come, and you both want to have a family, - he said seriously. - You will. You do not know this only because of your youth. And when you become real men ... I pray to all gods for you to be happy.  
\- I thought you didn't pray to anyone anymore. Mama says you lost faith a long time ago.  
\- She’s right in some way, - he admitted. - But when you were born, and then the girls and the twins, I’ve started to pray. It was hard for me to live, not trusting my worry to anyone but myself.

He suddenly realized with awe that they did not even understand what he was talking about. This all-consuming anxiety for one’s own children, which there is no one to give, which always lies on the shoulders, every moment, and presses to the ground, and gives you wings - was too huge and incomprehensible for young minds.

\- Do you remember the days when you returned after the Dornish War, and little Cat fell ill? - Arthur asked.  
\- Of course.  
\- I was so scared then. I cried when you came to our room and brought candied fruits. For some reason, it seemed to me that you want to console us because you’ve lost that battle and the girl died ... But you’ve told me that the Scarlet Disease receded, that you’ve hunted it away. Do you remember that, father?

All the days of Cat’s illness were now in a daze for him, and perhaps Jaime could not recall those details so vividly, but he knew what evening his son was talking about.

\- Then I fell asleep, reassured. I’ve seen you in my dream. In my dream you had a right hand, only it was made of gold. But it was ... not the one that you wore before when you served the former queen, your sister. The hand was real, only gold. You held the sword with this hand, and the sword burned. You drove away some shadows that crowded around me, scarlet shadows, black and gray ... and they disappeared, one by one.

Arthur fell silent and bowed his head. In the dark sky above the ship, large, like diamonds, warm stars were lit.

Podrick quietly remarked:

\- Gerion also began to see dreams. He says neither he nor Galladon had ever had dreams before.  
\- Yes, - Jaime said. – He saw a burning sea…  
\- His dream came true a few days later.  
\- Who knows why we are being sent dreams, - Jaime did not want to delve into this topic. -Sometimes it’s true that they show something real.  
\- Gerion had another dream before we left, - Podrick said stubbornly. - This time he saw a hung maiden.  
\- Why encourage his fears? It could mean anything, - Jaime frowned.   
\- But he did not tell you? Why, I wonder? He thinks you don't believe him.  
\- This is not true.  
\- And yet he told only us. He thinks you will again console him like a baby ...  
\- I did not know what to say to him. I thought then ... I really wanted to calm him down.

\- You are our father and you will always protect us, - Arthur said with a warm sadness. - But maybe it is time for all us to grow up.

The ship was already in the harbors, inconspicuous among hundreds of others. Her sails were lowered, but in the light of early morning, the color was clearly distinguishable. Dark from long sea roads, overgrown with shells, compared to other merchant ships, the purple sailed whaler seemed small, insignificant.

Standing on the pier, all five looked at it, trying to notice the smallest detail.

\- Is there a guard?  
\- It doesn't look like it, - Ape said with laziness. - Even if there were dozens of warriors, I would have coped.  
\- We need our soldiers.  
\- No, father. Let them stay on our ship. We cannot risk people unless we know for sure.

There was a good reason for Arthur's words.   
Yet Jaime could not shake off the feeling of something wrong, ominous. As soon as his sole touched the shabby boards on the deck, it became clear that the premonition did not come in vain. A long and sharp sword rested on his chest. The man started to spoke in a foreign language, but he could only say a few words before his head rolled at Arthur's feet.

Jaime looked up with mixed feelings of annoyance and gratitude:  
\- We should've interrogated them.  
\- Your duty is to question, mine - to kill.  
\- I could handle it myself. It was not worth helping.  
\- As you wish, - Ape moved slightly his huge shoulder.  
\- Listen, this is serious, - Ser Payne said in an angry half-whisper, - we must capture and interrogate those who have led this ship here. We can't just kill everyone.

They looked around. Except for the Dothraki, who almost stuck his sword into Jaime’s neck, there was no one else. The ship swayed slightly, and squeaks and splashing of water could be heard everywhere. Podrick began to go around the deck, having prepared his sword, followed by Ser Payne. Jaime gestured Ape and Arthur to the bridge.

They went through the captain's cabins and crew cabins, but the ship was empty. The team left the whaler, perhaps, they preferred Volantese brothels to darkness, boredom and creaking rigging. There was nothing valuable on the ship either. The decor was scanty; in the clay bowls greasy candles had long since burned, scraps and crusts of bread were scattered on the tables. The air smelled of rotten fish and old lard. No coins, no maps, no notes were not even on the captain's desk.  
Some scuffling was heard, and Podrick entered the wheelhouse with long strides, dragging the frail and frightened little man behind him. Small, hairy, dressed in a dirty fur coat, he muttered something, trying to wriggle out of the iron fingers.  
\- I found it in the galley.

Podrick threw the Ibbeni across the room, Jaime, just in case, jabbed the tip of the sword into his unwashed neck.

\- Do you speak a common language?

The prisoner silently covered his head with his hands.  
There was a slurred speech alternated, no doubt, by dirty curses.

\- Where is everyone? Where is the girl? Where is the captive? 

Podrick raised his foot for a strike, and suddenly the little man said, never lifting his face from the spattered deck:

\- Way down. Down there.  
\- The girl?  
\- Yes! Yes! Meat is there.

Ape walked in and looked impassively at the Ibbenese sprawled across the floor.

\- He says downstairs ...  
\- It's true. There is some noise in the holds.

Jaime's heart beat faster.

\- What to do with him, father?  
\- Let him lead us.

They put the captive on his feet, pulled his hands off with a rope, and, stumbling, snorting, he scurried ahead.

When the doors of the hold were ripped off their hinges, Ser Payne raised the deck light to disperse the pitch darkness. The room was spacious, but the air in it was musty and thick and smelled of human fluids, blood, piss, sperm, and Gods know what else. 

All the same weak candles were placed on the barrels, and on the far wall, with arms spread to the sides, some kind of fragile figure had been hung. They came closer. Her hair was so black that it was cast in blue flashes. 

In the dazed silence, they looked at her tattered, covered with something red, legs, and the ropes that had cut into the swollen flesh on her wrists. She was naked, but her nudity did not seem obscene or attractive. Rather, it added nightmares to the whole scene. She was cut, poked with something sharp, burned and beaten, and, apparently, her tormentors did it for a long time. There was not a single healthy place on the whole body. The girl almost lost consciousness and, perhaps, was halfway into another world. However, her stomach shivered weakly, and her breathing, ragged and pitiful, still flew off her crusted lips. Sometimes she moaned, but this sound was not human, rather, it seemed like the whine of a beaten dog.

Poor, poor child.

Arthur reacted first. With two light touches of Valyrian steel, he cut the ropes, and the girl with a lifeless soft slap fell down. He got down on one knee and gently lifted her head, brushing thick and heavy hair from her face.

\- Still alive, - he turned to the others. - She is still breathing.  
\- Where is the second? - Jaime grabbed the captive by the neck and lifted him into the air. - Where is she? Where is she?! Where is she, you, scum?

His fingers tightened, and the last thing he wanted at this moment was to let go.

\- Father, do not. Do not! Let him answer.

He obeyed. Ibbenese knelt down and wept. Podrick heartily gave him a hard slap.

\- Speak, otherwise, he will kill you for real.  
\- No the second! This is also meat! She is alive! She can serve! She serves! Serves well.

Ape stepped forward.

\- Did you attack the ship and kidnapped a girl with golden hair?

\- Oh, golden hair. That is not there, - Ibbenese said with unexpected and obvious relief. - That was taken away. To the purple brothels. Take this one instead. This one is better. She is obedient. She does everything you order. You can even execute her. She is not crying. She doesn't bother you. She is well trained…

\- You killed everyone on that ship, - Ape said quietly.

For a few seconds, the Ibbeni was looking upwards, his mouth agape, enchanted by the darkness in the eyes of the Unsullied. When the sword gently and quickly entered the frail chest and the blood started to pour, the little man turned his equally shocked look to his wet coat. A pink foam appeared between his lips, he gurgled something - and fell on his side, frozen and strangely peaceful.

\- I killed him mercifully, - Big Ape said, drawing his sword and wiping it with his handkerchief, and not addressing anyone, - but only because he helped us in the search. I will kill the rest slowly.

\- Better help me now, - Arthur said irritably.

Ser Payne approached him.  
\- Another kidnapped?  
\- Probably. She is still alive, oddly enough.  
\- They must have left her to entertain themselves. A poor girl…

Podrick and Ape searched the remaining holds. As the Ibbeni said, there were no more captives on the ship. Podrick brought a bowl of water and, wetting his neckerchief, Arthur touched the girl’s lips with it. She opened her eyes and stared at him with strange mix of sadness, anger and horror.

The world has not seen such an ugly girl, Jaime thought detachedly. Her face was wide and flat, and her little nose was flattened too. Her skin seemed snow-white even under the layers of blood, abrasions, and bruises. But black thick eyebrows, thick lips, and amber yellow, slanting, with straight, horse-like eyelashes, eyes made up a terrible disharmony with this snow-white skin. She seemed thin and fragile, though probably was not small. She looked at Arthur for a few moments and then tried to crawl away. He held her, gently taking her shoulders:

\- Listen. I won't hurt you. Do not be afraid. Here, take a sip.

\- Arthur, we need to leave, - Jaime said.

Burning look over the shoulder. 

Podrick said anxiously:

\- If she was left alive, it means that they also hoped to have fun further. They can return at any time…

\- We can't leave her here.  
\- But we are not ... We have nowhere to take her.  
\- We can let her stay at our ship. 

Jaime decided to interrupt them:

\- Podrick is right. We can not lose so much time. In addition, we do not know who she is…

\- Oh, I think you know it perfectly well, father. She’s just meat, - Arthur said suddenly, in such a hopelessly angry and desperate voice. He rose to his full height, straightening up and turning to his father and the others. – True? Worthless, slaughtered to death piece of meat.

No one answered him.

In silence, only the girl's ragged and hoarse breathing was heard. She lay curled up, at Arthur's feet, without giving any more signs of riot or even consciousness.

Arthur turned around, tore his cloak off his shoulders and began to cover the prisoner. Podrick thought a little and began to help him. 

\- I'll carry her. She weighs nothing.

Jaime and Ser Podrick Payne exchanged glances.

Remembering what happened after, Jaime decided that it was this act of mercy that led to the accident with his son. The burden slowed Podrick, did not give him the desired speed and made him clumsy.

And at some point, it also became clear that Big Ape’s wish to kill all the pirates slowly did not come true. Because, as soon as Podrick straightened up, holding the captive wrapped in a knightly cloak, the arrow whistled over his shoulder. It plunged into the bulkhead, ringing sharply and thinly like an angry wasp.

Without thinking, Ape threw his dagger in the doorway, the Dothraki fell backward. Behind him, another one appeared, and then two more. Scrambled fight in a narrow corridor gave the Jaime Bunch some advantage. Ape acted swiftly and carefully and Ser Payne did not lag behind him. Soon the entire corridor was littered with dead bodies.

They began to make their way to the gangway, and Jaime felt how the blood in his veins started singing after a long twenty years. He chopped and pierced, left, right, forward, forward, forward. The sword again became an extension of his hand. Once he was sure that he would no longer raise this sword to kill the living, but, like many oaths, including those given to himself, he also broke this one.

The excitement of battle was born in him, and there was nothing anymore that could hinder or constrain him. He forgot about his limp and that lacking a hand. When he merged with the Valyrian steel, he felt almost religious ecstasy, akin to what only a real fighter or a skillful lover is experiencing.

His children acted in amazing coherence, repeating most of each other's movements, strangely elegant even in this clumsy battle-dump. Arthur was fast, Podrick acted with the integrity of a really strong man. He seemed to have killed someone with his bare hands, with a fist to their temple, or by hitting their head on the bulkheads.

A dozen pirates were finished without much difficulty, but arrows were still flying from above and they could hear somebody's jerky orders outside. Ape went ahead, closing the rest with his huge silhouette. He beat and smashed, not paying attention to retaliatory strikes and the whistle of arrows.

When the sunlight from the deck hit his eyes, Jaime managed to notice that at least a dozen Dothraki, Ibbenese and mercenaries in gilded mail were moving towards them. Ape snatched a spear from someone and pierced two at once. Arthur shortened a couple of thugs. For some time they fought, standing in a circle, back to back.

And suddenly there was silence around. Ser Payne first left this short martial fraternity.

Stepping over corpses, he moved to the board. A savage rushed at him with a cry, and he, almost without looking, cut him in half. Some more time was spent clearing the passage to the boats. The decks were covered in blood. The wounded pirates moaned, screamed. But the battle was over as a short thunderstorm. Ape wiped his face with the back of his hand and disdainfully discarded the dirty spear. He went to someone wounded in the stomach, lying on the side of the ship, his cry just vibrated in the ears. Unsullied leaned over and with a crunch, with his bare hands, turned the poor fellow's neck. It became quieter.

Still silently, without exchanging a single order, they descended into the boat. Ser Payne came last. He looked at Jaime and raised his eyebrows. Jaime shrugged. Probably, that was a good idea, to prevent possible detection.   
Ser Payne looked around and pushed the black keg with his foot. The lid flew off, and the smell of blood mixed with the smell of tar and damp. Ser Payne dropped the deck light. The flame took over instantly.

Ape, completely calm, with his usual expression worked with the oars. Black hot smoke poured from the deck, filling the pale Volantese sky.

The first thing first. Jaime grabbed his son's face.  
\- Are you all right?

Arthur smirked. On the face stained with blood, his teeth beamed snow white.

\- All is well with me, father.

Jaime, staggering, grabbed Podriсk's neck, who just managed to lay the half-dead girl on the bench.

\- And you?   
\- Yes, and what they've could do to me, - Podrick gave him the same insane grin. - Are you serious, father? What are you afraid of? 

Then Jaime saw. Podrick followed his gaze and frowned in annoyance.

\- Oh, Seventh Hell. I’ve not noticed. 

Arthur snorted.

\- You fought with a burden in your hands. This, I tell you, is impressive!

Jaime said, trying to look calm, to hide his anxiety:

\- Do not touch.  
\- No way. I don't fancy it.  
\- I said, do not touch, do not pull. Just break off the tip. A healer will help to get it out ...

The arrow stuck out of Podrick's biceps as some kind of ugly big splinter. Its plumage was bright green. Arthur grabbed his brother by the arm.

\- Let me watch closer.  
\- There is nothing to look at.

Arthur deftly cut the sleeve of Podrick’s leather jacket with a small knife.  
The arrow was sticking straight out of the chest of the tattooed lion, and Podrick giggled stupidly. The intoxication of the battle still raged in him.

\- These bloody fools made a hole in my tattoo.  
\- Oh, you’re freak, - Arthur said. - They, by the way, made a hole in you. There are seven holes in a man...  
\- Eight, - Podrick burst out laughing. - You didn't count the arse.  
\- Well, now there will be nine in you.  
\- Shut up, blockhead.  
\- Look, who is blathering here. Lion with a hole!

In the end, not listening to the persuasion and exhortations of the elders, Podrick pulled out an arrow, and although there was more blood than Jaime would like to see, the wound really turned out to be neat. The ibbenese arrows usually were jagged, but this one was forged somewhere else, and it did not tore the muscle, only cut it, although deeply. Arthur opened a leather hip flask and poured a big portion of the sour wine on the wounded lion.  
Podrick hissed, baring his teeth, and did not stop cursing the pirates, who, he thought, "spoiled such beauty." Looking at brother's cheerful exchange of jeers and at their blood-spattered faces, Jaime suddenly felt very old and incredibly tired at the same time.

But the day was just beginning.  
They had to return to Tarth's ship in order to carry there the rescued girl and bandage Podrick's wound. The ship's healer examined the prisoner, shook his head in sadness, and said to Jaime:

\- Maybe she will survive. She is very weak. Would you like to let her stay here, my lord?  
\- Of course, we’d like, - Arthur said quickly. - What is the other choice?  
\- You can give her to a tavern or to a brothel. If they find her useful, they will try to cure her ...  
\- And if not?

Jaime ordered:  
\- Leave her here. She does not pose any danger. And… please, find some clothes for her already.

They went on deck, where Podrick, with a bandaged hand, was cleaning and sharpening his sword.

\- How is she? Did she say anything?

\- She's still unconscious, - Arthur muttered. – Probably, even if she would say something we could not understand… She does not look like a girl from the Kingdoms. Maybe she is from Volantis or some other Free City. Father decided to leave her with us.

Podrick looked closely at Jaime and smiled slightly.

\- Mother taught us that a knight should be kind, merciful to the weak and defenseless. 

Jaime shrugged.

\- Your mother is right. As to me… There is not much mercy in me. And there was never any kindness.

\- There is. - Arthur said with unexpected gentleness. - You were forced to think otherwise, but there has always been benignity in you.

Volantis seemed to him a city full of prostitutes, mercenaries and beggars. And also priests and witches. In the crowds, people traded everything - spices, weapons, bodies, and faith. 

Moving up the narrow streets, Jaime noticed some people with fair hair and white skin in a crowd. They have been here for a long time, and were covered with tan, scars and this elusive scurf of mud, sweat, and sugary perfumes. Purple taverns settled everywhere, but they were small, dark, pitiful, and it was difficult to even guess what luxury was waiting for those who get to the main palace.

This building inspired awe even against the background of other Volantese architecture. Built with terraces of white and purple marble, it stuck into the sky with a sharp gilded roof. In the twilight, the servants lit up lanterns placed and hung around, and the purple walls were flooded with orange light. The building seemed to float through a hot evening, and the scarlet seas poured over its terraces. Mercenaries paced through them, their cloaks were long and narrow, and really reminded of purple tails.

\- Go and see around the whole building. Look for at least three different exits. Our soldiers should stay on the streets, in several groups. Everyone should know where the rest are.

Jaime looked at the front gate through which merchants and sailors from all the world flowed like the river.

\- By the time I’m inside, you’ll have to be ready to tell me what you’ve found. Arthur and Ser Payne, you are with me. Do not show swords unless I give a sign. We are not expected here, otherwise, the guards would behave differently.

Nobody hindered them indeed. The guards glanced over them, assessing not the weapon, but the contents of the wallet and the degree of drunkenness.

From the gate, a wide alley led to the main entrance. Decorated with columns, with lanterns, with vases of huge fragrant flowers around, this entrance promised the most inconceivable pleasures.   
Passing by the columns, Jaime noticed that they were covered with carvings of men and women, woven together in all known poses. Light and sounds of tambourines flowed from the hall. The girls were dancing right on the tables, under the explosions of approving shouts.

Arthur turned his head with frank and naive curiosity. The girls here were naked with varying degrees of shamelessness, and everyone wore a lot of jewelry. The visitors grabbed them and hugged them, and the girls continued to smile without any signs of embarrassment or fear. The coins rang, the wine splashed.   
Someone at the tables just had dinner, not paying slightest attention to prostitutes. Some men looked at half-naked young boys, who were just as good-looking and as thickly made up, and were ringing monists and bracelets just like the girls.

\- Look for all the moves from this room, all the corridors, and do not let me out of your sight. Arthur?

His son, flushing deeply, looked away from the flexible dark-skinned girl who was sitting right on the high counter, spreading her knees wide and laughing. She wore nothing except a short blouse of blue silk and a purple veil that covered her hair.

\- I'll be alert, - Arthur promised.  
\- Joanna is somewhere here, - Jaime said quietly. - And, for the sake of all Gods, do not take the local smiles and laughter for sincere joy.

Ser Payne took everything as coolly as possible. He himself managed to smile at one or another girl, but at the same time his glance, tenacious and cold, quickly slid around the hall. He showed Jaime to the far end of the long counter, behind which the cupbearers worked:

\- There is one of the superior. That grey-haired woman in black. Perhaps she takes orders. Get wine. She is looking. She will see.

Jaime sat down on a stool. Somebody brought him a cup of scarlet and thick, like blood, wine. It smelled of ginger and apples. He put a pouch with money on the counter polished with thousands of sleeves. For some time he touched his lips to the edge of the glass and did not look around, just attentively listening to the sounds. The roar of voices, laughter, jokes, foreign languages. Jingle dishes from the kitchens. Smoke, grilled meat, splashing wine. Crackle logs. Someone's scream and the sound of a slap. Door knocking. Turn the keys in the door.

An elegant hand lay next to his pouch. Black velvet sleeve. Covered with delicate tattoos, long and thin fingers. And a few rings - gold and jasper.

\- Are you bored? Bored with us? - a melodic and gentle voice said with an elusive accent.  
\- Not at all.  
\- Is the wine bitter?  
\- Oh, no. It is very flavorous.  
\- Then why are you sad, my handsome knight?

Her face was covered with deep wrinkles, and yet she was once beautiful. Silver hair lay on her shoulders in thick curly waves. Over the white dress, she wore a black velvet robe, tied with a belt in man’s manner. On her belt, Jaime noticed a narrow stiletto in a silver sheath.

\- I'm looking for something special.  
\- Everything we have is special.

He grinned, looking into her light brown, unkind eyes.

\- Is that so? And it seems to me that everything here is like everywhere else. Whoredom, golden coins and dirty illnesses under the silk skin.  
\- How very unpolite, - she drawled, however, quite complacently. – And what would you prefer, my lord?  
\- I want to buy something that is not for sale.  
\- Oh. Believe it or not, we sell even that.

Her gaze slid over his clothes, his hand and the stump of his hand. 

\- There is a girl with golden hair and blue eyes, as blue as sapphires. True beauty, a rare gem. But she is waiting... for special guests.

\- If you have everything so special here, it means me too. Count the coins.

She took the pouch and weighed it on her palm.

\- She’ll probably fight back. Would you like to be the first to know her? 

Jaime felt a surge of nausea and fury.

\- Is my gold not enough?  
\- Completely enough, - she said, smiling the most sincere and warm smile. - Break her and do whatever you want to do with her. But murder anyone here is not allowed.

She put a key on the counter.

\- You will be escorted to the room. I will send wine and fruit.  
\- No worries, my lady.  
\- It is at the expense of Purple Tail. Have a nice evening, my noble knight, - she bowed and deftly hid his pouch. – After all, all whores must serve. Even most treasured ones.

Arthur caught up with him when Jaime, climbing the stairs, was already walking along one of the wide passages.

\- Ser Payne, Podrick and Ape will be outside. The soldiers are waiting. There are three exits, the main one and two against each other, west and east. The most mercenaries are near the west. There they put the drunks into the cold water. Very noisy and crowded...

\- Stay close to me.

The purple-painted door looked heavy and sturdy. Such a large thing cannot be broken easily. Jaime turned the key, while Arthur stood with his back to him and cautiously looked around the gallery. There was a noise as if something heavy had fallen, then a rustling of silk and a strange sound, like spilled gurgling water.

Jaime pushed the door open, and his eyes rested on beautiful golden hair.

Joanna was hung face to the entrance: a rope was woven with pieces of expensive fabrics, tightly squeezed her throat. She jumped down when they've turned the key, and her body was still twitching, a chair lay on the floor, she probably pushed it with her feet. Scarlet and white spots were slipping down her face, a trickle of blood was running from her mouth - she had apparently bitten her tongue in the initial cramps.

\- Gods!

Arthur was the first to overcome the stupor of the moment. He rushed to his sister, waved his sword, cutting through the rope. 

Motley threads and rags flew in the air. Jaime barely managed to embrace her legs, they were still twitched in the dance of death. He lifted her higher to ease the pressure of the loop - and the next instant his daughter's body bent in a final spasm and went limp. She fell into his arms and seemed strangely light to him, her hair was matted and smelled of incense, and her eyes rolled up and printed forever in Jaime’s memory. Like those other eyes of another golden-haired girl many years ago.

\- Oh Gods, Joanna, why, why!...

Arthur was kneeling by the bed where they had laid the girl. Jaime quickly locked the door. 

Joanna was alive, although her neck was swollen and covered in a deadly scarlet necklace. Her breathing gradually became smoother. Finally, when Jaime, with shaking hand, poured a glass of cold water from a silver jug and carried it to the bed, she opened her eyes.

Сloudy and full of tears, they stopped on her father's face. She spoke in a hoarse half-whisper, and blood was still seeping between her dry lips.

\- Father? It's you?   
\- I'm here, - he sat down next to her and stroked her cheek, noticing old, healing abrasions under her ear. - That's me. And your brothers are here. It's all over. It's all over. We will take you out of here.  
\- Did I die? - She asked with naïve, almost childish fright. - And all of you?  
\- No way, - Arthur said, and Joanna turned her confused face to him. - Anyway, I'm definitely not. But why, sister?! Why did you do this?

Jaime wiped the blood off her chin.

\- I didn't ... didn't want to live. They promised that... they would sell me, that the customer will come here, and I... I’ve made a rope… and I’ve hung the loop up. I wove it from the patches of dresses that they gave me, from sheets and covers ...

Jaime frowned. Of course, the mistress of a brothel promised him that the girl would resist. 

And of course, Joanna chose her own way of resistance. Even in this position, sold and defiled, she could not harm her tormentors but chose to decimate herself.

She began to cry, sobbing hoarsely and gasping:

\- He is dead, father! Ronnel, my Ronnel. I saw it. They ... they ... they've killed him. And Septa Marona. All of them are dead.

\- I know, - Jaime said softly. - I'm so sorry, Joanna. Forgive us for not being able to protect you. For us being unable to save Ronnel and all our people. But you are alive. And you are now with us. We will not let them touch you, I promise ... Hey, hey. Shhhh. Just cry, you'll feel better.

She turned on her side and poked her face into Arthur’s sleeve. Arthur looked helplessly at Jaime.

\- We'll get out of here ... - he mumbled, confused. - Very soon. Podrick and others will help us. We are not alone, Joanna. Do you hear me? You are no longer alone.

Jaime shook his head: let her cry out. Arthur remained to kneel by the bed, while Joanna, trembling, hugged his broad shoulder with both of her hands.

\- I want to go home, - she said through her tears. - I want to go home so much…

\- We'll be going home soon, - Arthur answered eagerly. - Please, just stop shake ...

She really began to shiver. Those were her pain. Pain, and horror. They could loosen their grip, but they never recede without the last punch. 

Jaime made her drink water, and her teeth rattled loud on the silver goblet.

He gripped her chin with his palm.

\- Joanna, honey. Do you hear me? Look at me. Yes, like this. Listen carefully. Soon we will get you out of here. You should be quiet, do not be afraid. Must listen to us and keep up with us. Do what I say. Without any hesitate. Can you do that for me?

She blinked slowly. Blue eyes with dilated pupils seemed to Jaime to be bottomless and full of sorrow - full to the brim with all the grieves of the world. After a pause, she nodded slowly.

\- That's my girl. You're doing fine. You are very, very brave. I'm proud of you, sweetling. Here... Now get up. Can you walk?

Arthur helped her to her feet.

\- We go to the western entrance. We say that she felt bad, that she should be brought to her senses with the splash of cold water...  
\- Isn't it too risky, father?

Jaime looked out of a tall window. The night wind swayed smells of jasmine and filth, sea and rotting fruit.   
Downstairs lights were flashing. A narrow ledge just under the window ended at the railing of the open gallery.

The lights below became brighter. He saw a group of mercenaries, about twenty of them, they were moving in even rows and apparently for some specific purpose. Their purple cloaks wave from a quick stride. Then he saw another twenty, and another…

\- Fuck. Arthur, help me.

Jaime drew his sword. Arthur repeated after him, and Jaime showed him the hooks holding the grate bars on the window.  
Valyrian steel was stronger than iron. One of the hooks arched and succumbed, the second Arthur knocked down without much force. Grate hung on the remaining two, freeing the passage.

\- Put it aside. Do not take off fully.  
\- It's high here. And you do not have one hand!

In the corridor, footsteps and excited voices were heard. As if on some spellbound, Joanna stared at the door. Jaime tore off his cloak.

\- Arthur, give me yours.

They tied their cloaks and then tied to them the remains of a rope woven by Joanna.

\- It's not far from here. The gallery will take you out. Find the others and get off here.  
\- No, no, no, I know what you're up to!  
\- Listen to me, son, - he growled. - I'll hold them up. Your duty now is to help your sister.  
\- We will not leave you.  
\- Joanna can barely stand on her feet. I'm limping. There are too many of them out the door. Get outside. Try to become unseen. You, Podrick and Joanna, are getting immediately on the ship. This is an order. Do not lose each other. 

\- I said we will not leave you here...  
\- I'll catch you up. But if I am not on the ship until dawn, do not help me, do not come back, take off the anchor and sail home.  
\- Father! I'm begging you, - Arthur touched his sleeve, but Jaime threw his hand off.  
\- I'll catch up ... Do you hear me? I promise. I can handle it. Protect your sister. You are a knight. So be a knight. Don’t lose your fucking honor!

With a face grey with despair, Arthur walked to the window. He looked down and understood everything.

\- Make a knot there, - Jaime pointed to the bars. - It will keep you. Do not dare let it go until you get to the gallery.

Somebody hit the door with something heavy. Joanna, trembling visibly, retreated to the window.

Jaime clasped her by the shoulder and spun around.

\- Sweetling. Please take… - He unfastened the belt and passed it to her along with the Oathkeeper. - I know you can handle that. You are brave. You are strong. I know it.

She stared at him, almost without blinking. 

\- But ... what about you?  
\- I still have a dagger.  
\- Father! - Arthur shouted with such desperate that Jaime flinched. But he did not look away from his daughter’s pale face.

\- Joanna, I pray you only one thing. Whatever happens, don't give up, do you hear me? Don't give up anymore. Do not let them win. Fight for me. Fight for yourself. Fight!

The purple door cracked from heavy blows. Someone shouted. The clang of weapons ready to kill was heard.

Jaime let her go and stepped away. His children cried something, and in their voices, he could hear plead and fear, but he barely listened.

He tilted his head to the shoulder. The blood sang in him again, calling for battle. 

Let it be a worthy slaughter, he thought as if through a fog.   
He turned slightly to the children and for the last time quietly ordered:

\- Run.


	10. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Now everything will be all right, - she whispered softly. - You came back to me. I knew it would be like that. I’ve always known.

Dozens of arrows were aimed at his face. Jaime looked on these sharp, prickly, jagged stings and then on those who held him at the point. Dothraki, ibbeneses, volanteses. Gods, how did he get tired of all those fucking savages ...

He had nothing special to say, and yet he could not refrain from (perhaps the last in his life) jest.

\- All this for the one-armed old man and a young girl? Yes, brothers, your carefree courage will stay in songs and legends.

Silence. 

He saw the bladed swords. There was some kind of movement behind guards, and then the warriors parted a little, letting the gloomy figure in black forward.   
Still beautiful, elegant, but now also solemn-haughty, the hostess of the brothel was holding a bunch of keys.

\- Ah, so there was no need to break the door, - Jaime again made an attempt to joke, although no one really appreciated the previous one.

\- Ser Jaime Lannister, - the woman said in a singing voice and looked at the dagger in his hand. - Now I see you in all your famous glory. Put down the weapon.

\- Let's start here with your warriors ...

\- You're in no position to snap, - she said, frowning slightly. - Come with me. Want to poke me with your dagger, be it your will. But it is stupid to die because of the old whore.

He even began to like her cynicism. If it were not for the fact that this woman contributed to the suicide of his daughter, he could even respect her. But now he did not feel anything except huge and confused fatigue.

In the silence from the courtyards, someone screamed and burst of laughter, as if nothing had happened. Noticing that Jaime listens prickly, the brothel owner said:

\- If you disobey me now, I'll send out a chase.

He lowered his hand. The dagger fell to the floor with a jingle.

Limping under guard, he proceeded to listen to the noise from the courtyards and from the great city outside. He could not hear the chase, bustle or ringing of weapons.   
People shouted something, drunk and laughed, excited, sang, burned fires and fucked. The night seemed to flow past him, black, hot, deep, like a river and it was full of passion, of sins and joy.

The path seemed to him long and strange, like a dream. He had no doubt that they were going to take him hostage or (most probably) execute him, and that he might only have a few hours to live before dawn. But some kind of light, tender sadness appeared in him, and the confidence that he, at last, did the right thing.

The frightened faces of his older children stood before his eyes, and suddenly he regretted that he did not even embrace them in goodbye ... 

Gods, what kind of a man is he. He lived a long and interesting life and became the father of wonderful children, and the husband of a stunning woman, but he has never learned to love and to open himself to those he loved.

There was little mercy in me, he thought, not without bitterness. And there was never any kindness ...

But they so believed in him.

Let this be the rule of how the world was created, let this be so customary, so common that children believe in their parents as in some gods, even if this is just a naive illusion, one of many, like first love or knight’s fidelity ... and yet he was proud of this and happy, and their faith held him, raised him up, made him a better man than he really was.

He was led to the inner chambers of the palace. The birds flew under the high arches of the galleries and the air smelled of cinnamon and rose oil. It was quiet here, only the steps of the soldiers were imprinted loudly and sharply in purple marble, and the dress of the brothel’s hostess was rustling. Finally, she stopped at a high double door, decorated with golden vines and curls. She slightly bowed:

“I'll leave you here, my lord.”

She pushed the door but did not enter.  
Soldiers did not move either, they silently lined up at the door in a double guard.   
Jaime, amazed, entered the huge round hall. Hundreds of oil lamps exuded this spicy and sweet smell. Here was as bright as a day. A long table stretched to the door, set with food and wine. There were flowers in low bowls. Fruits were lush, juicy and tempting. At the far end of the table stood a chair with a high carved back.

A figure in scarlet velvet towered there, like some kind of spider, to which all the threads of a trap set in the brothel were pulled. And, like claws of some spiders, behind her, the arrows and crossbow bolts bristled from a dozen well-trained white-skinned mercenaries.

He would recognize these golden strands if he were even a half-blind old man on the verge of death. Once they slipped between his fingers. And his skin remembered their touch, and his palms remembered - even that palm that had long ago decayed and disappeared. The gold of her hair now gleamed silver, but Gods, she was still beautiful. As if nothing disappear anywhere and nothing ended ...

Over the years, Brienne's face became softer, like wax on a burning candle, but his sister's face sharpened and became hard. From the sensual full lips, deep wrinkles stretched down, giving her an already not very happy face the look of stern and gloom.

He looked at her for perhaps too long. She suddenly smiled - and Jaime noticed that her lips were trembling:

\- It is not how we imagined this meeting, right?

\- Cersei.

He went to her, limping, stumbling, so the traveler in the desert runs to the water, even knowing that it is poisonous.

\- You are alive.

Jaime gripped her face with his hand. She did not move in her chair, and he saw thin old scars crossing her neck and temples.

\- Are you surprised? - She asked with a short tender laugh.

He embraced her, then let go and looked at her closer.

\- I ... yes, oh Gods, I didn't know if you were alive, I ... hoped, of course, but I just thought that ...

Cersei suddenly hugged him back. Her hair smelled of roses and ashes.

\- Now everything will be all right, - she whispered softly. - You came back to me. I knew it would be like that. I’ve always known.

Jaime moved away. Her green eyes were just as beautiful, as in her youth, only around the eyelids the wrinkles were cut. He could not resist and kissed her high forehead. 

A single tear rolled down Cersei’s cheek.

\- Please. Sit down, - she pointed to the table. - Sit down and let us talk, Jaime.

She gave a sign, and the soldiers finally lowered their weapons. There was a slight disappointment on their faces.

\- Go away. Leave us alone.

They obeyed unquestioningly. Jaime sat down at the table, looked at her thin waist, sheathed into this bloody velvet. Her only jewelry in the form of a golden lion hung on a thick chain around her neck. Cersei was always able to present herself, he thought with a mixture of tenderness and disgust.

She rose from her seat and headed towards him.   
Cersei exactly repeated almost all of his movements, even stomped a crippled leg with the same resolute and pitiful jerk. Her hips, which had once moved so smoothly, majestically, now wobbled, as if all her bones were turned out of their joints.

Her lameness was ugly and at the same time incredibly captivating. Jaime wanted and could not take his eyes off this spectacle.

After all, I'm the same, he thought fascinated.

He felt deep, dark sorrow for her.

\- As you can see, we stay very similar, - she put her hand on his shoulder. – This is our fate, I suppose… But you look amazed. Didn't you know that too?

\- I did not know what happened after.   
\- And yet you gave me to those people.  
\- I will not make excuses. I was dying then. All I wanted is to save at least you. This was the only way out for us.

\- How noble, - she grinned sadly. - How noble and honestly you always speak. And even nobler is how you are able to keep silent. Keep quiet about what you really think. Or thought. Drink with me, Jaime, we are both crippled lions now.

Cersei poured wine into his glass. He dutifully sipped. She said with a bitter smile:

\- I would like to believe you so much, but we are Lannisters.   
\- You know that I loved you.  
\- "Loved".  
\- I'm sorry it all happened to you.

She, frantically limping and therefore looking even angrier, returned to her chair. Jaime thought that he also begins to limp stronger when he is raged or annoyed.

Her words were still dripping with false honey.

\- You look tired. You've aged. Eat. Drink. Have a rest. You don't have to fight anymore. At least today.

He again could not take his dazed look away from her.

\- This is a trap. You prepared everything, right? But why? For the sake of the Gods and all the Hells, tell me why?

\- The funny thing is that you know the answer.

\- I swear to you, I would have come to you, I would have found you if only…

\- Oh, you would, wouldn’t you? - icy chuckle.

She was his twin sister and knew him too well. He’d never won their debates and never was the ingenious one at their bickering. 

The worst part is that now she is finally right, he thought.

\- Yes, I would. But it was a mistake of you to touch my children, - he muttered in dismay. 

\- I did not touch them yet. Although I could. I could only give an order, and your daughter would be raped by dozens of Dothraki, and then by dozens of their horses. Her screams, if you had found her after that, would have stood in your ears for the rest of your life. 

Jaime clenched his fist and slowly unclenched.

\- We have changed, - he finally uttered. - Everything has changed. But your hatred still smears everything around.

\- You can not value my mercy to this girl, as always. You think I am a monster, a villain, a beast. You were afraid of me. And you still are, - Cersei grinned. This fact seemed to amaze her, as a strange toy astonishes a child as a gift. - That’s why you didn’t come back to me and didn’t try to search for me. 

\- Cersei. You are my sister. You were once different, after all - Jaime almost prayed. – I remember. When we were children or when we ...

\- Snakes shed their skin. People change if they are tormented for a long time. Your daughter survived only a few nights in this brothel, she just sat locked in her room, and I lived here for five years, Jaime. I served every night, I spread my legs, again, and again, and again. At first, I too was going to finish all this with one noose or one knife stroke. But something kept me. Perhaps the thought that I’ve been once another person was holding me up. When we were children when I was with you when I wore my crown. When my children were alive. When YOUR children were alive!

\- Please. If it can change something, please, forgive me.

\- For what? Is there your fault? Haven’t you denied it moments ago?

\- How did this happen? Why?

\- Lady Delaney, - she replied with cold disgust. - She really cured me and helped me when I've stayed half alive in her house, dying, calling on all the gods to let me go. I could not breathe, I was blind in one eye, deaf in both ears, everything in me was broken, and I’ve cursed you - because you pulled me out, and her - because her potions would not let me escape into the darkness.

\- We didn't know that.

\- Maybe you did not know. But my younger brother just rejoiced, imagining how the old woman keeps me in this world, broken, wounded, without giving me a drop of poppy milk. My moans would be a song to his ears ...

\- It is not true. He did not want you to perish or suffer. Me too.

\- Anyway, Lady Delaney imagined herself as my savior. I could be her companion, she said. Who needs a lame woman, she said. And suddenly I realized that she... is looking forward to some more. Someone has to pay for everything, she repeated. After all, she did so much for me. I served the old witch, combed her hair, washed her nasty fat body, and listened all day to her reasoning. You have beautiful hair, she said. You have beautiful breasts. And a thin waist. Men like when a woman has a thin waist. But your limp spoils everything. And you should cover those scars, she said.

Jaime wanted to cry.

\- In the end, she found a buyer. I don’t think that the old witch received so much gold for me. But she has haggled, of course, to the last coin. Everything had been used. My hair, my eyes, my lips, breasts, and what's between my legs ... You seem confused? Have you ever heard how your sister being sold? Like the meat on the counter, I was appreciated, and everything was assigned with its own price. All whores must serve, these were her favorite words.

\- You told them to write it in her house ...

\- I am glad that the blood now can’t be washed. Even if they cover the wall with lime, I hope that her wise words will flow through it.

\- Did you order to kill her?

\- I would be glad to do it myself, but I did not want to get my hands dirty. Though… Oh, how I craved it. Smash that high born slut like a worm. I was told that this scum died quickly, from the fright, no doubt ... It's a pity. Such a pity.

Jaime involuntary looked away.

\- But I held on to life, even as a whore. I was a whore here, lame and old. You know that they sell such meat cheaper and let men do anything with us? And what is with your daughter? Some kind of unwillingness to live, to fight. She reminded me of both Tommen and Myrcella, although not outwardly ... her beauty is very doubtful because she is from the womb of this hefty freak. And it is seen. But there is definitely something weak in her that was also in them both. Stupidity and tenderness. An apple with a wormhole. Squeeze it even lighter, and it will burst. Your daughter is weak, like all your children, except maybe Joffrey. I’ve let her weave this rope, I understood perfectly what she wanted. So pathetic. To tell you the truth, I was glad you were on time. If she hangs there some more you would have lost a fourth child. This is probably too much even for you, Jaime.

\- Myrcella was killed, - he said quietly. - She did not commit suicide.

She smirked without any trace of joy and brought a glass to her lips.

\- I am glad that you still remember something about your children. About your real children.

\- All my children are real.

Cersei became silent, but he noticed how the small muscles were playing on her cheeks. For a while, he swallowed the sweet wine to wash off the taste of ash in his mouth.

\- What happened after? - he turned to her all the body. - Do you want to tell me what happened then?

\- There was one decent man, - she said with a bleak smile. - But, before I tell you this part of the story, let me ask you one thing. Once it seemed to me that you made a terrible mistake when you got laid with this enormous sow and knocked her up. And even not once. However, over the years it became clear to me what moved you. A pity. Compassion. These feelings can get anybody far away and made anybody drunk, even the Lannister. Once they turned you into a traitor. Yes, I’ve learned this fact perfectly. People can be noble, gracious, generous ... but only when they lie on top of you. So tell me. You must have been so excited about it. About your own nobility, your own fucking kindness. Her flat tits and loose ass, her giant cunt, all of that you surely didn't appreciate, I know you too well. But you were excited at the thought that you were giving her with your grace. True? Say it. Say finally out loud.

Jaime stared in amazement at her contorted face.

\- Say it! - she almost screamed, completely losing the remnants of composure.

His silence angered her. Cersei finished off the wine in several big sips.

\- You want to become a mute knight again? Be it so. Then I will say it. All men dream to torture and rape women, but what arouses all men most is the feeling of power, the opportunity to have mercy on them. As to me… It is strange how you can benefit from everything, especially when you have no other choice. I’ve learned to see that mercy in people because over all those years there was no one below me. Below me you could find only beggars and animals, that's where I had been. And when I saw pity in the eyes of this man, I recognized it as clearly as if all this was tattooed on his forehead. He was a merchant, a Lorathi merchant. Never for all his visits here did he force me. At first, I thought that he was one of those who were aroused by lameness or scars. He was younger than me. And, what is most sad, he was handsome. He came and stayed with me, but did not even dare to touch. Well. He should have been more careful ... Because I did everything to make him love me. His affection for me turned into deep love, and he took me away from here. My name has changed. My gowns have changed. Everything has changed ... Lorath is a poor city, and there is nothing for those who need gold or power to look for, but in part I was lucky. My husband had weaving workshops. For days and nights, they weaved velvet of the highest quality. Money flocked to him like a river, and he never dared to refuse me anything. Would it be a mistake to say that I was very sad when he died from some strange choking, his breathe stopped right in his dream?

Jaime shook his head.

\- I think it would.

\- Fortunately, he left no heirs. His sisters I had to ... eliminate. His parents died a long time ago. Lorathi velvet market has long been owned by me. This is gold, this is freedom, power. But I no longer wanted to remain in that gloomy gray palace. I began to look, look closely. Again, I searched in men for something that could crush them. Their nobility. Their desire to be strong and generous. Become true support, become salvation and the greatest gift for a poor lame widow. I was no longer in need of stupid passion or animal desires. I’ve needed something ... real.

\- You do not even pretend anymore, - Jaime said, barely holding back his disgust.

\- Do you think I had a choice? Staying here? To die one day from obscene disease or to be beaten to death by a drunk buyer? Is this what I should have chosen? Well, I tell you what. Perhaps it would be easier for you. But I'm alive, Jaime. I'm alive and I want to live further.

\- Why not stay on Lorath?

\- I needed warriors, ships, and lands. You can get anything from the big forest lands. Gold, precious timber, iron, stones, diamonds ... To weave velvet threads, of course, is not bad, but I wanted to weave threads of real power. Lorathese are not able to fight, besides there are few warriors. They are afraid of strangers, mercenaries are shunned. I needed an army and lands. And then the Consul of Shadows appeared ...

Jaime recalled the blackbird, Ans’s black eyes and his story. Suddenly, everything reopened to him, fell into its true place. How stupid he was, not knowing who moved these little nations along the board. 

\- So it is you who rules at Ibben?

\- Since the First Consul Nottorro has been unwell, yes.

\- Is he really sick?

\- Let's hope that the God of Shadows will be merciful to him and will soon take him to the best place. His mind is clouded over. He lies in bed, tied to it with the chains, and speaks in delirious that some traitors tried to poison him ... I had to promise him that I would find those traitors and beat out the confessions from them, I would torture them, but I would certainly find those who had done such villainy.

Cersei poured herself more wine and raised a glass, a triumphant smile slid across her face:

\- For those who believe in us, Jaime.

\- You are making your old mistakes, Cersei. Craving to rule, stepping over people. You make them angry. You’ve been hated for this before, and it will be repeated again...

\- Well, I won't argue, - she laughed in his face. - I want to rule, I want to pay gold for faithfulness and murder for infidelity. I always lacked modesty; I am ready to admit it. However, you are probably sick of feigned modesty and ugly shyness over the years. You saw enough of her stupid sour face. Don't you want to return to the true treats? Don't you want to return to the lions, Jaime? Lions do not eat carrion. They feed on hot blood and flesh of those who they've just killed.

Something bothered him in all this. Finally, he has comprehended it. 

\- You knew about the wedding. Perhaps, about the ship in the Gulf, you've been told. Or you did rely on the luck of your pirates. But why did you force Lady Delaney to write this letter?

\- A letter? - Cersei frowned at him.

While he narrated she put down her glass and wearily rubbed her neck as if a golden lion had become too heavy.

\- We thought she wrote this under dictation, and, most likely, yours ... The last rumor was that you left for the eastern cities. But Tyrion continued to pay for her silence. And suddenly she broke out in this ridiculous greeting ...

\- I did not know about that. So, the old bitch not only sold the meat into the brothels but also has tried to betray me. Greedy creature.

\- Lady Delaney knew what you had in mind?

\- Alas, yes. From her, I’ve been delivered most of the news about this splendid Tarth wedding. People called it a sapphire wedding, can you imagine this?

\- So, - Jaime said in squeamish amazement, - you befriended with her? After all that she did to you?!

Cersei shrugged and said with slight displeasure at his stupidity:

\- Of course, I befriended with her after settling in Lorath. I needed a spy in Tyrosh, and besides, I always try to be close to my enemies. I can advise it to you too. I paid her well. Yes, we use to chat and giggle like best friends. She was always quite tiresome, but her words benefited. Until I decided that it is time for her to pay for everything ... Until I was told that your ship had entered Tyroshi Harbor.

Jaime got up and walked along the table to hide his shock.

Of course, he did not expect that Cersei’s pitiful stories would end on some kind of honorable, true or light note, but her sticky, like a cobweb, mendacity hit him. 

It seemed that he knew her very well - but that was a long time ago, he had forgotten how to read the truth behind her words and see further than she wanted to show him.   
He lived too long among the fair and sincere people. This weakened him.

\- If I knew that she was trying to betray me, I would personally trace that her death did not come as long as possible. Ibben has a wonderful executioner, the best in his skills, perhaps ... But her miserable attempt failed.

\- We decided that the letter is an empty threat.

\- You have always been the stupidest of the Lannisters.

Jaime didn't even mind.  
\- What is it all for? - he asked bluntly, so as not to listen to her dirty words anymore.

\- Lannisters always pay debts. Consider it as my wish to collect tribute from you. From you and from Tarth Island.

\- I have nothing to offer you. What do you want? Gold?

\- I have it. More than enough. I want you.

He suppressed a mad laugh bursting out.

\- You are out of your mind.

She grinned with the most unpleasant of her smirks:

\- And I do not think so. Tarth in recent years has become famous for its soldiers. They are great at war, well schooled, noble, strong and brave. They say you prepared them. They say that this army the Witch King owes his victories, and not at all the doubtful gift of foresight. And I tend to believe it.

\- I do not understand…

\- Of course, you do.

\- I will not serve you, - he snapped. - I will not train an army for you, because I know where this will lead you. Do not dive into this madness again.

\- It's not up to you, Jaime. You never really decided anything. Your place is next to me. But your duty is not to think, but to carry out orders. Together we will crush the whole Essos, and then maybe ...

He began to laugh. Cersei patiently waited for the attack of this cold joy to end.

\- Life hasn't taught you anything, sister, - he said with a short sob. - Don't you see it? I no longer want to be with you. Maybe once I was happy to serve you, but now you have nothing to hold me. And you no more have something to tempt me, to intimidate me, to convince me or to force me.

Cersei looked at him with tender pity.

\- You have no idea how I can force you, Jaime. I always could. But I do not want to compel you. I want you to stay with me of your own will. Forget all those who forced you to sit on a leash on this dirty little island, who inspired you with anxiety and guilt. They devoured your life like worms eat a corpse. But now you are resurrected. Now you are with me. And I will not let them anymore...

\- Gods, listen to yourself! You are delirious. Do not deceive yourself, Cersei ... Fuck it. To Hell this stupid dispute. You know what? Perhaps we stop now.

He turned his back to her, tormented by this eternal feeling of guilt, but driven by indignation. Her crazy speeches seemed to tear off the veil of charm and false, and Jaime suddenly desperately wanted to be away from her.

Limping to the door, he decided that he would not turn around. Let her be remembered by him so arrogant, so cruel, so beautiful, let her to won the battle again, but again lost the whole bloody war ...

He pulled the door and seen the peaks and wry swords of the guards.

\- You do not understand? The dinner at your hostess is over. I'm leaving.

They looked at him silently and indifferently.

After a short pause he suddenly was pushed into the chest, and Jaime backed away. He had no weapons. 

He rested his hip on the table, and then they pushed him again. As he fell, he involuntarily grabbed the tablecloth and pulled it along.

\- Bring him here, - Cersei raised her voice, and too late he could make out the cold steel and the putrid wind of true madness. It, he suddenly realized, came through from all her words and all her smiles. Like shadows, scarlet, black and gray, it slid along the walls of this hall and poisoned wine and water...

Fallen dishes ranged, something spilled with a thin splash. Someone stepped on his chest and rested the tip of the spear against his neck. He was hit in the side, in the thigh, in the stomach. They struck quickly, accurately. He himself would have done exactly that with a prisoner who cannot be brought to death or maimed. There was not a single blow on his chin (they beat him so that he could talk and not choke on blood), on the eyes or on the temple. But they knew the butcher case well, and the pain rang in his bones and veins, like a bowstring.

When he, barely restraining a moan, was dragged to Cersei and thrown in front of her, he saw his reflection in the polished marble floor. Tangles of gray and yellow hair, tattered beard, frightened eyes.

From the moment he found himself in Volantis, he was frightened for the first time. It was not death that scared him.

\- Put him on his knees, - she said.

Jaime stared up at her.

\- What are you doing?! You do not want it to end like this ... - he muttered. - You do not want this...

\- Of course, I don't want to, - she shrugged. - But have you given me a choice?

\- You've always had it, - he almost shouted.

\- It is up to you now, - she said quietly and calmly. - Undress him.

Jaime did not resist. Some part of his mind was still amazed at the depth of her madness, but even in this position, he felt sorry for her.

Compassion, she said, is a supreme pleasure. If not quite so, then close to the truth. Compassion for his sister softened even the stinging pain of blows. And the pain of humiliation, when a dozen young and strong soldiers tore clothes from his aged body. 

\- Want to execute me? In the name of what we've lived through, just do it quickly.

\- Take off everything, - she called out irritably. - Yes, and move faster. Take off his boots. Where is the cloak?

Jaime just shook his head. He was hit in the stomach again. He bent, gasping helplessly.

\- Where is your damned cloak?

\- We cut him down, my lady. He tied it to the window so that the little whore and the knight could run away, - finally, one of the warriors said.

\- The sword?  
\- He gave it to the girl...  
\- Gods, you are such an idiot, Jaime Lannister. What else did he have? Where is his dagger? Bring everything here. 

\- What are you thinking? Just finish what you lured me here for. Did I piss you off? With what? Cersei, I cannot stay with you, and you yourself know it, you knew it, you understood it from the very beginning ...

\- Shut your mouth. I am sick of your pathetic whining.

She rose from her chair and approached him. The soldiers parted slightly.

\- You, - she pointed at one of them. - Hit him in the face.

Jaime raised his head. To his horror and amazement, she was holding a goblet of wine in her hand as if she was going to enjoy the spectacle.

\- Cersei!

Dothraki punched his lips, and his mouth filled with hot blood.

\- Punch him to his nose, - she ordered, sipping more wine. - But don't break it. I want the blood run.

Dothraki obeyed. Jaime felt how from the hard and fast blows something rings in his ears.

\- One more, - her voice sounded as if from a distance, through layers of mist, water, and silk. Blood flowed into his throat, and he suddenly heard his own sob. 

Would he die like this, on his knees, naked, trampled and humiliated by his own sister? His surprise at this thought was mixed with bitterness.

And, actually, why he is so surprised? What end did he expect? The noble knight, the savior of the weak and the protector of the innocents? He didn’t really expect that the Gods would send him dead in his own bed, surrounded by his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Or that they will give him a brave and bright, fast, like a flame, death in battle?

\- More! - the voice of his sister sounded duller and farther for him now. – We need more blood. Again! Again. One more.

They beat him in the face, kicked him like a stray dog.  
Finally, Cersei ordered:

\- Enough.

He heard quick steps. She leaned over and picked up his shirt from the floor.

\- Press it to his face.

When Jaime, lying on the floor and barely pushing the rest of the air out of himself, could open stained with the blood and tears eyes, he saw her standing above him with his clothes in her hands. All things were stacked in a neat pile as if in opposition to the absurd that was happening around.

\- Please, - he mumbled, feeling neither his tongue nor his throat.

\- Now I give you a choice, Jaime. I hope you can appreciate it.

She disgustedly handed over the blood-covered clothes to the maid, who apparently brought the remains of his cloak from Joanna's prison room.

\- Those items we will send to the ship. Here is every single thing that you were dressed in and here is your last weapon. Your children will be told that Ser Jaime Lannister was executed after an honest and beautiful fight. You lost, but you died with dignity, and you paid back for stealing a girl. So they will be free to return home. No one will delay them. No one will demand neither the return of the girl nor the payment for the burned whaler. Let them bury you as a hero and mourn your last feat.

Jaime began to shiver, and he just could not stop it. The marble beneath him seemed at once burning and icy. Blood dripped onto a smooth surface with quick wet clicks.

\- If you do not like my offer, you can try to catch them up. But you will have to run faster than the wind because my ships are already waiting at the harbor exit. Let your people fight and be responsible for everything that they have done here according to your own instigation. If you will be on time for them, you can close the dead eyes of your daughter and sons. And then you'll still stay with me anyway and we'll go to Ibben. If I decide that your atonement has come, I will allow my Dothraki not to tie you to a horse and not to drag you naked.

\- Cersei…

He prayed to her, and he did not know anymore why or for what.  
Like a goddess of death and destruction, she towered over him, with those golden strands flowed over her shoulders, a scarlet dress and a scarlet mouth twisted in a smirk. 

\- You did not answer clearly.

\- Leave them alone. 

\- Speak louder then, otherwise I can misunderstand you.

\- Send clothes…

With a mocking smile, she took the filled goblet and drank a few sips with swift greed. She waved her hand to the maid and nodded to the Dothraki.

\- Follow the order. Do not touch the ship crew. All of them should stay there. Let them go. Let them get out of here, the sooner the better.

Jaime sat down on his knees with difficulty, and could not bring himself to look at her.

\- Have a drink with me, - Cersei suddenly suggested with a peal of laughter. – Bad days are over and now we are together again. Are you glad it eventually happened?

He silently pressed his palm to his mouth. Copper and thick taste of blood would be worth washing with wine, or water ... anything. But not out her hands.

He flinched when Cersei stepped closer.

\- You do not want to drink with me?

\- You're really going crazy, - he said quietly.

\- And you are pitiful, - she retorted with a laugh. - Look at you. That's what you chose by your own foolish will. You are no longer the lion of the Lannisters. You are whining and crying like a bitch whose puppies have been taken away. And I didn't even kill your puppy brood, Jaime. And yet I will show you even greater mercy. To be merciful is really very exciting... Over the years, I begin to appreciate the exquisite pleasures. Therefore, I will be clement to you, brother. I will put you on a short leash and give you some time to adjust. I will let you mourn for yourself. Until your reason returns, and you do understand how right I was finding you and returning you. Yes, wash off all this blood. Dress him properly. And bring here his collar.

He was very tired that night, and he remembered the rest vaguely - again they were leading him somewhere, pushing him and wiping his face with a damp towel, putting on his new clothes and boots, combing his wet hair. He also remembered the smell of incense around, and the light of the early morning, gentle and clear, when he was put on a chain, linked to a ring in the wall.

This room was small, but elegantly furnished and not without some eastern chic. For some reason, he remembered the dark red bedspread on the wide and low bed under the translucent canopy. The butterflies embroidered on it seemed to flutter from the movement of a light breeze.

He fell asleep when he was given wine, and in his dream, he returned to Tarth. The sun was shining, and the dust danced in its rays. He walked through his galleries and rooms and heard the gentle laughter of his children. The tramp of their feet. The rustle of bird wings. The shuffling of silk skirts. Some joyful cries that he could not make out. Knock of small leather balls on the floor, clinking bracelets.

He opened the door after the door, but the rooms he entered were empty. He had the Widow's Wail in his hand, and looking at him, Jaime saw that the blade was covered in blood. It was dripping and dripping on the stonework of the floor, and he quickened his pace, and suddenly realized that they were hiding from him, that this blood on his arms was driving them from him, and they were flying away like those butterflies in the wind. He felt such despair and such sorrow, and tried to call his children - and woke up.

Cersei sat in bed, sweeping her luxurious hair with a golden comb. She turned her head, perhaps, having heard him cry out in a dream.

\- Jaime?

He half lay on his side, knees bent. The chain would hardly let him get up. His abrasions were aching, and soldiers, after all, broke a bone in his nose. He had difficulty breathing. Not embarrassed by the presence of his sister, he spat out a blood clot from his throat.

\- You're already feeling better, right? - She asked hopefully.

\- It could have been much better if your thugs didn't beat me yesterday.

\- Please, forgive me, - she said meekly. - It was necessary. But the bones are intact. The healer examined you before you fell asleep.

\- You gave me some poison.

\- Only a sleepy tea made of local herbs. Nothing you wouldn’t drink in your right mind. I know how you hate poppy milk.

She got up and walked over to him, knelt down. Her soft shoes stepped silently. She moved a little awkwardly, and from this, the robe threw open on her, and he saw a transparent lace shirt, which teased more than it hid. Her skin and hair smelled of flowers and the sun, and warm ripe fruit, and young wine. And yet - of herself, he remembered that sweet smell perfectly and, oh Gods, he was still fascinated by it.

\- We'll be on our way soon, Jaime. We are going to Ibben. I could go there by sea, but I do not want to hurt you, because the path goes past Tarth. In addition, I think the temptation will be great for you. No, I will not torture you by traveling so close to these damn stones. We will cross the continent. Your position near me will change. My soldiers will listen to you without any doubt or question. And I will trust you. I promise. I promise! We will be happy again…

She palmed his face, leaned over and kissed his temple.

\- I missed you so much. I needed you so much ... Jaime, Jaime, my love. Why have we lost so many years staying away from each other?

Cersei kissed his cheekbone and forehead, and then, after a brief contemplation, leaned lower and touched his lips with hers. For a few moments, he felt the world slowly revolve around him and a golden mist flows. Her mouth slid over his lips, the tip of her tongue touched like a lizard, quickly and carefully - and yet she could not open him.

She straightened with a sigh.

\- You have aged.

Her hand slipped to his groin.

\- However, not surprising. After everything that happened yesterday.

\- You know this is not the case.

Cersei shook her head reproachfully.

\- I could’ve given you the brothel potion, and your cock would rebel against your will, and then you would beg me to ride you and do whatever I want. You would scream in pain and desire. But I will not do that.

She bent again, dismissed the ties on his breeches, touched his cock with her soft and sweet mouth - and again the world became hazy golden. But, as if under a witch's spell, or contrary to such, Jaime did not feel anything at all.

She tried, that's all he could say about what was happening. She really tried.

Finally, clearly tired, Cersei moved away from him. She pushed her hair from her face.

\- And you are really aged.

\- You didn't understand anything, - he said, not at all feeling embarrassed. - And hardly ever understood.

Her green eyes filled with distrust and hostility.

\- Enlight me then, - she hissed coldly. 

Jaime probably should have bitten his tongue, but the words just burst out of him, for the first time in many years, or maybe in his entire life. He wanted to cause her as much pain as he could.

\- Your body has aged, there are wrinkles on your face. And I could spare you and say that I am no longer excited by your touch and your mouth, because you have become an old woman or because you are limping like a beaten peasant's mare. I see wrinkles on your chest and on your lips, I feel how your skin has become flabby. I see gray hair in your braids. You can cling to this illusion, as well as many of those that you’ve crafted in your head. But I say you that Brienne, too, did not look younger. All of us are filled with sadness, and all this has affected us, we are covered with scars and wrinkles, and our bodies are not perfect. Neither her, nor mine, nor yours.

He pushed himself forward, trying to reach her closer. He wanted his words to hit the spot, to really strike her dark and cold heart.

\- Do you think you are different? I have never seen much of a difference. I did not care. Tyrion once said that no women have transverse cleft between their legs, and this is so true. And you could be comforted by the fact that I suddenly started to appreciate the meager breasts or a plain freckled face, preferred them to your adorable tits or to your alabaster skin. I could tell you that she is a better person than you, the kindest woman I've ever known, the gentlest, the purest. That could be a good answer for you, but that will not be true. And the truth is that I've never slept with the woman I was not in love with. Neither the size of your tits, nor the smoothness of the skin, nor the years, nor the gold of the hair, nor my bloody knight pride, nor her damn eternal kindness would raise my dick. I only slept with her because I love her. And now your lips crawl on my flesh without any answer because I don’t love you anymore. Nothing other is different.

For a moment it seemed to him that she would cry or turn away. But instead, her face, twisted with anguish, became angry, her eyes blazed with unkind fire. 

Cersei struck him hard in the face. Then again.

He did not resist. Her rage was so genuine, so sincere. Jaime realized that he wasn’t in vain spending the rest of his eloquence. She eventually understood him completely. 

Yes, his verbal punch hit right on target.   
At least in those moments, while her small weak hands slapped him across his face, Cersei, his twin, and once the closest person in the whole world - lived the true life, complete and honest.

Soon she felt tired. Panting slightly, Cersei got up and adjusted her robe. Her hair was tangled, her lips were shaking. She limped over to the table by the window and poured herself a full cup.

\- It's still so early, and you already get drunk? - He muttered with an innocent smirk.

His lips were aching from the split wounds of last night, and blood trickled down his chin, but probably, it was worth it.

\- Shut up. Or I swear, you'll taste the Dothraki horsewhips.

\- You hate me now? Come on, tell me straight. No one is here, we are alone. Tell me you just want to destroy me.

\- I want you to live as long as possible, - Cersei said sincerely, taking a big sip and putting down the cup. - Death will not take us one by one, only together, you could have already understood it. But your life, more precisely, what is left of it, can be ruined very painfully. From now on it is in my power. 

\- You said that with all these years on Tarth I was kept on a leash, by those who were feeding on my guilt and anxiety. But do you know when I found myself on a leash? Today. Here. With you.

Cersei shrugged her shoulders as if trying to shake off something unpleasant.

Dothraki's whip really turned out to be one of those treats that he would never want to try. Whether she wanted to punish him or to subdue his pride, or just take out all her pain, Cersei herself probably wouldn't be able to say for sure.  
For several days she treated him with the greatest possible tenderness, washed his wounds and fed him almost from her own hands. And when he took a break, got stronger, stopped shocking her with cruel jests, and began to hope that, confiding, his sister would remove his collar and the chain, she brought four Dothraki warriors into the room. Their coal-lined eyes looked through him. As if he did not exist for them, at least as a person. He was just meat, the same as this brothel was stuffed with from cellars to roof.

They tore off his coat and shirt and put him on his knees.

\- You wanted it. - Cersei was sitting in an armchair, stretching her legs on a small couch in front of her. – Would you like to drink before we start?

\- Why? - he uttered, not really hoping for her mercy.

She liked to be merciful just for the sake of something certain. If the goal was obscure, Cersei did not bother herself with such moral feats.

\- You did like to humiliate me, - she remarked gloomily. - You seem to have learned something new over the years. Well, so as I've learned too.

\- You have never been against the idea of torturing somebody, - he murmured.  
\- Somebody. Not you. After all, I love you, Jaime. Do you remember how you came back to me? How did the stones fall from the sky and you held me in your arms?

Of course, he remembered.

\- I felt every blow that struck you with my own body. Every bloody strike. I wanted to protect you so much...

There was no truth. She hid her face on his chest... well, not her fault, and who would not hide. But Jaime did not want to expose her lies anymore. It only made her angry.

\- I just want to appeal to your reason, - she said with a guilty smile. - And to everything that was between us. If your answers are correct and truthful, then I will order them to stop. If not, they will continue, and your skin will hang in strips, exposing the meat and bones.

\- Correct or truthful? It’s unclear, - he could not resist from the bitter pun.

As usual, she remained deaf to what she considered unimportant or stupid.

\- Let’s start now.

The first blow tore off the skin, as she promised. Jaime bit his own tongue. Blood gushed from his mouth, interfering with saliva and vomiting. While he was spitting pink foam and trying to find in himself the remnants of breath, Cersei said:

\- We were born together and together we had to go all our way, never had to part. Our children could become great rulers and glorify our home through the ages. But this did not come true, Jaime. And there is no your fault or mine. And if there is, then we have redeemed it long ago. So tell me, do you even remember their faces? Their names? Their laughter, their voices, their eyes?

He heard her voice quiver. He felt sorry for her, but the pain burned this pity like acid. Instead of breathing, something just gurgled in his throat, and the sour taste of vomiting mixed in with salty blood.

\- I... I remember, - he croaked, wiping his mouth with his hand. - Please, tell them to stop...

\- Speak, - she ordered. - Who are your children? Who are YOUR children?

He had moments of thought, but this eternal Lannister pride raised its head. And the horror of the fact that he will never again see his family shielded his own fear of whips.

-Podrik Lannister, - he said.

She did not answer, and he did not look up at her, but most likely, Cersei gave a sign to the soldiers to proceed.

The second blow made him fall to the floor. He understood all of a sudden that perhaps he would no rise ever again.

\- Try one more time, - Cersei ordered.

\- Arthur Lannister...

The third blow fell on the bone on the shoulder, and the dazzling pain covered the whole world with white lightning.

\- Think again.

\- Podrick Lannister, Arthur Lannister, Joanna Lannister ...

The name of their mother brought Cersei out of her conspicuous calm.

\- One more! - she cried.

The fourth blow came to the neck. Surprisingly, it was not broken. However, his head seemed to be covered with a burning helmet. Blood dripped onto the floor next to his face.

\- Speak, - she repeated stubbornly. - You have to say it!

\- Joanna, - he murmured, slowly losing the thread of his mind and falling somewhere into darkness.  
It seemed to him that her name was pulling him to that side. And to be sure, he repeated:

\- Joanna Lannister.

In the half-delirium, he saw the pale, gentle hand of his mother, she touched his shoulder, and the flaming anguish became a little easier.

\- If you don’t tell me now, I will order them to continue, - Cersei’s frightened and angry voice came from far away.

\- Sansa Lannister.

Startled pause. Then a hit between the shoulder blades.   
Spine twisted with bright pain.

\- Catelyn Lannister...

In the silence, he heard as Cersei pushed herself up from the chair. Then another hit followed.

He was half crying, half whispering.

\- Galladon Lannister.

She circled around the room, apparently already doubting painfully whether to continue. He heard her footsteps, her limping tread; they approached and retired, giving the nauseous rhythm of the ship’s motion to the already vague world.

But a moment of silence followed - and another blow struck him.  
He had neither the strength nor the air to utter at least a word, but suddenly it seemed terribly important to go all the way, not to betray any of them, albeit in such a strange way.

\- Gerion Lannister...

Later, the Dothraki informed him that the man usually lost his mind after the third. And did die from pain after the fifth.

He made seven. He always liked that number, after all.

He was absent from this world for several days, and on his return, he found that he was lying in bed. His collar was removed and he was no longer tied to the leash.

Some girls brought cold water to his lips, and a thick potion with the smell of cedar needles, and warmed wine, and poppy milk. Someone smeared ointments on his wounds and put the bandage.

He emerged from oblivion and fell back, over and over. One day, opening his eyes, he saw Cersei. Crying, sitting at the foot of the bed, she timidly stroked his leg. Her hair cast silver in the moonlight. Perhaps she decided that he would soon die and she repented of her deed. But, most likely, there were just angry tears and drunken sorrows, and hot disappointment.

Who else did he disappoint in his life? Now his own sister's turn, Jaime thought lazily, before he again plunged into pleasant darkness.

One day he woke up in the middle of the night and felt a heaviness on his chest. He squinted his eyes and saw her golden head. Cersei lay with a childish and gullible gesture pressed against him, her head lying on his chest. Heat emanated from her body. She somehow, without even turning her head, knew that he awoke.

\- Forgive me, - she whispered. 

And she repeated in a strong voice, in which both the plea and the despair were heard. 

\- Please, Jaime. Forgive me.

Close people can cause each other inconceivable pain, he wanted to say. Words, deeds, vows, promises. Unspeakable, undelivered, unfulfilled or forgotten... Anything can hurt our closest ones. Suddenly. Eventually.   
But he could not say anything, his tongue would hardly move in his mouth and his throat was sore as sand.

Her shoulders shook slightly, she was crying again.

He raised his hand and touched that warm golden head. He tenderly stroked her hair, but Cersei kept crying, and her tears soaked his shirt. And again he left her and run back into the darkness and peace.

Once he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed. She bent over something, and her hair reflected the glare of light and seemed to him the most beautiful vision in the world. Then she lifted her head and turned to him. Noticing that he was conscious, Cersei said softly:

\- Soon we have to go. I’ve prepared a gift for you. Do you remember giving it to me? I remember. I paid off the fisherman who drove the boat. I hardly remember his face and all that day, but I remember how I gave it to him. I think it had vanished somewhere in the Tyroshi markets after all. 

She extended a golden hand to him. Jaime flinched.

\- I've ordered it to be crafted for you. You should not have abandoned it, but you gave it away for me, and I only now understand what have you done...

I beg you, do not, he wanted to say. Please don't make me wear it again. But he was weak, the poppy potion pushed him away from the world, just as a tide wave pushes a twig caught in it, drags it to the shore, throws it onto the sand and again draws it away into the sea.

Sometime later, when he was still befuddled and drunk, they put on his golden hand and firmly fastened. He was wrapped in clean bandages, dressed in some richly embroidered clothes, and his new cloak was fastened. Carefully supporting him, two mercenaries led him through the galleries. Through the veil of poppy fuddle, he heard somebody's cries below, the crackle of the fire and the clink of swords. Somewhere people ran, begged, yelled. Carts rolled with a creak. Jaime heard a horse trampling and someone's guttural speech.

The bright sun blinded him. Dragged around, he turned his head and noticed the hanged figures right in the yard. They dangled, stretched out and bowing their heads to the side, like broken dolls. Among them, albeit being in a very confused state of mind, Jaime recognized the gray-headed brothel mistress.

He was put on a horse. The high saddle did not allow him to fall, but by this time his head was spinning. Nausea has become stronger from the smell of roasted meat and burning silk.

He slowly watched around and saw a small sea of black-haired heads and golden helmets. Cersei drove up to him, sitting on a beautiful snow-white mare.

\- This brothel will serve us well, - she said softly. - But from now on everyone here will serve me. I once promised myself to go back and pick up all I want. From those who took everything from me. Finally, I fulfilled my promise. We are leaving, Jaime. The road will be long, but our bad luck is over. This is our homecoming. And I welcome you to our new life.

She turned away and led her horse forward.  
Homecoming, he thought through the envenomed fog in his own head and through the sun glares around.

Am I going back home?  
But where is my home? I am lost, I am divided, and I do not belong to myself. 

He wanted to cry from confusion. Where I am? Who did I leave there, far away? Far, far beyond the blue sea.

The troops moved away from the courtyard in even rows, and the hooves pounded loudly on the Volantis stones.  
The world was floating around Jaime, a deep and muddy river, where people drown in sin and passion, in joy and sorrow, in pride and meanness.

He turned around and saw the estuary of the dark river, and further, the motley terraces and the bay. The sea shimmered blue, warm and gentle.

The strange thought came to his mind from afar, from long-standing anxieties and joys: 

my eldest son was born on the road.

Suddenly, the veil intoxicating him fell down.  
Memory pushed him into the real world, and he began to grasp and cling to the fragments of his own life, his own truth.

His eldest son was born on the road.

How did it happen that he was not around? He made his mistakes, one by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading my fic and giving kudos, comments, for everything.  
> I am incredible touched and forever grateful for your support and warm words. 
> 
> Still terribly sorry for my mistakes. 
> 
> So... This is the last chapter of 1st part.  
> And though there is no happy ending, please note, that, chronologically, the story is only at it's middle!

**Author's Note:**

> Here is kind of moodboard I made for this work, it can help you to know how I visualised Tarth's characters, at least, partly.  
> https://dvervzimu.tumblr.com/post/186000698603/this-is-kind-of-mood-board-for-my-fanfic-which


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